


Washing Rain (A Crazy, Random Happen-Stance)

by AdaraLove



Series: Destined Love [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: 8059, M/M, Shounen-ai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-21 03:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 36,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdaraLove/pseuds/AdaraLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gokudera has started to feel strange around Yamamoto, who is constantly trying to be around him. What will happen when Yamamoto insists on tagging along with a stressed out Gokudera, who is just trying to get to the nearest laundry mat in peace?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hey all that have dared to read this! This was my first 8059 fic! So, hopefully you think that the boys aren’t too OOC. If you are wondering about the weird title, the first part of it was me trying be creative and failing, and the second part, the one in parenthesis, is a line from the awesome “Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog”, which inspired this crazy idea in the first place. I loved that line. Anyway, I'm re-posting this story from my fanfiction.net account, but after looking it over again for anything that I need to change. This story also has a sequel, so this story will be part of a series once I have the time to post the rest of the chapters
> 
> With that said, I'm sorry for any grammatical errors that I might have missed lol. I don't have a betareader to look over this, so hopefully I was able to catch most of everything.
> 
> Hopefully I’m just being paranoid lol. The only warnings I can think of for this story is Gokudera’s potty mouth, but what do you expect lol. Enjoy! 
> 
> Disclamer: the only thing I own in this fic is the idea for it and some minor characters, everything else is owned by Amano Akira.

Gokudera started off another morning with his usual scowl despite the fact that, if the shimmering beams of sunlight burning through his retinas were anything to go by, the world outside his bedroom window promised another beautiful fun-filled Sunday. 

The grumpy silver-haired teen gave an irritated grumble as he carefully opened his eyes, the sunlight still glaring directly into his face, much to his chagrin.  Seeing as he probably wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep anytime soon, the aggravated teen got out of bed with an irritated huff; he was not looking forward to this day at all!  The young Italian teen just couldn’t find a reason to feel invigorated on his only free-day of the week, a day which would usually be spent hanging out with his beloved Tenth, because the brunette teen had finally found the courage to ask a certain Sasagawa Kyoko out on a date. 

Now, usually, this wouldn’t be a problem for Gokudera.  After all, he was ecstatic for his boss’s triumph (Kyoko had said yes!).  If he was in control of the situation, though, the young self-proclaimed-right-hand-man, like any good right-hand man would do, would follow his boss in the shadows to make sure no family rivals would off his precious Tenth while he tried to woo the girl of his dreams.  Sadly, though, he couldn’t even do something as simple as that today.

The young demolitions expert grumbled irritably to himself as he glared toward the corner of his room where his clothes hamper was lost within piles upon piles of clothing, towels, and undergarments.  Before the Tenth had asked Kyoko out on their date for today, Gokudera had been helping him prepare for their finals for the last two weeks.  The silver-haired bomber was so caught up in planning different teaching methods, and pulling all-night study sessions with his boss (and a certain stupid baseball idiot who wouldn’t leave him alone, so he had to teach him, too— but that’s a different story) that he completely neglected one of his most basic chores; his laundry (the Tenth came first, damn it!). 

Frankly, it had gotten to the point where Gokudera couldn’t ignore it anymore.  He was down to two sets of shirts and jeans, and maybe a pair of boxers, and his school uniform was in such a dire need of washing that if Gokudera wore it to school, Hibari would go beyond ‘biting him to death’ to just plain outright killing him for disrespecting the Namimori school uniform and defiling the school grounds with it.  This meant that Gokudera had no choice but to waste his Sunday in his small apartment, washing his clothes.  Oh sweet joy…

Or at least, that was the original plan, until his washing machine decided it had had enough of Gokudera’s punk-ass clothes and refused to work for him. 

The Italian teen swore vehemently at the stupid machine after many failed attempts of trying to make the damn thing turn on.  After about the fourth try, and fighting back the urge to stuff dynamite into the abused machine, Gokudera gave up after giving the washer a spiteful kick...which only caused the silver-haired teen to swear up a storm as he realized that kicking any metal contraption with your bare feet was not the brightest thing to do.

After much un-dignified hopping and cursing, the young Italian called up his landlord to tell her about his situation, and ask her to call a repair man (the washing machine had come with the apartment and was therefore her responsibility).  Actually, the call was more like Gokudera bitching the landlord out for selecting such a crappy piece of equipment in the first place and demanding that a repair man be showed to his door immediately. 

Apparently, his landlord was used to him by now, because she seemed nonplussed by his attitude. Gokudera would even go so far to say she sounded **_smug_ ** over the phone when she stated that the regular repair man she kept on hand wouldn’t be able to help him for a couple of days.  Gokudera knew she wasn’t helping him on purpose (she was probably still mad at him for calling her a salivating whore last week when she was indiscriminately checking him out), but, before he could call her out on this, there was a loud click on the other line as his landlord (a.k.a. Salivating Whore) hung up on him.

“Fucking bitch!” Gokudera screamed furiously into his cell-phone, barely stopping himself from throwing the offending object across the room in his anger and breaking yet another appliance in his apartment.  What the hell was he supposed to do now?

Going over his options, which weren’t that many, Gokudera had the choices of not doing his laundry (that would be stupid), asking to borrow one of his ‘friend’s’ washing machines (Putting pressure on the Tenth when he already had people free-loading off him in the first place would be a horrible thing to do. Plus, there was no way in hell he was going to look weak and ask one of the dipshits he occasionally hung out with for a favor!), or dragging his clothes to a laundry mat (joy…).  As much as he despised the last one, Gokudera knew, for the sake of his pride, he had to find the closest laundry mat near him and spend the rest of his day there washing his clothes.

Of course, things were never easy for Gokudera; **ever**.  From his family and life on the streets, to his life in Namimori, the young Italian-Japanese boy had faced hardship after hardship.  After meeting the Tenth, though, Gokudera’s luck (what little of it there actually was) seemed to rise, and he was blessed with an amazing-spectacular boss, a true sense of family (even though he would rather be tortured in millions of gruesome ways before ever admitting this to anyone), and a steady income from the Vongola family since he was the only guardian living by himself without support.  The sum he received on a monthly basis wasn’t as much as he would be earning once the Tenth actually took over for the Ninth, but it was enough to afford living in a decent apartment.  By the end of the month, though, after paying the rent, utilities, and for cigarettes and dynamite supplies (both of which were not cheap in the slightest), Gokudera would hardly have enough money to pay for his food.

That was the situation Gokudera found himself in now.  He only had the money left over from his check to buy the next month’s worth of groceries, which mainly consisted of instant noodle packets and soda.  The silver-haired boy sighed in defeat, knowing he had no choice but to use the last of his savings to wash his clothes at the laundry mat now. 

Surprisingly, the thought of not being able to buy food wasn’t as depressing as it should have been for Gokudera.  It just so happened that when the Tenth and Yamamoto visited his apartment for the first time a year ago, they realized the financial situation he was in and offered to help.  Gokudera adamantly refused against his precious Tenth’s help. He felt guilty enough intruding on the brunette’s household on a daily basis as it was, and that his horribly twisted half-sister was free loading off of him without any remorse.  It took awhile before Tsuna finally succumbed to defeat, but that didn’t stop the second visitor from putting his own two cents in. 

Yamamoto, as Gokudera knew from the past three years he had spent with the baseball-idiot, was stubborn; **_extremely_** stubborn.  The tall, well-toned, baseball player wouldn’t take no for an answer and insisted on helping the foul-mouthed Italian every chance he got.  Over half of the supplies in Gokudera’s kitchen, the supplies he hardly ever had a use for, were given to him by the dark-haired teen.  Skillets, spatulas, a toaster, and a rice cooker were given to him freely on the grounds of Yamamoto saying something like, ‘ _Ha ha, these are some hand-me downs my Old Man was saving for me for when I go to college.  I don’t need them now, so you can borrow them, Gokudera!_ ’

Then, along with the kitchen supplies, came food he didn’t even know how to cook, ‘ _My Dad asked me to buy some groceries on the way home from practice and I bought too much, haha!  Funny, how that works, huh?_ ’ 

Of course, this caused Gokudera to yell at the tall teen for being an idiot, and for thinking that Gokudera would actually buy those excuses. Besides, he didn’t even know how to cook the food Yamamoto was giving him!  After grumbling these complaints to Yamamoto, the tanned baseball player’s only response was, ‘ _Haha, I guess I’ll just have to come over and cook them for you then!_ ’

Stupid Yamamoto! Damn him and his ability to cook decently, and his stupid award-winning smile!  As much of a fight Gokudera wished he could have given to the damned-smiling teen, his empty stomach was begging him otherwise, so he had stupidly agreed to the little deal (which he had a feeling that Yamamoto planned from the very start).  Damn him and his inability to say no to that idiot!  Now Yamamoto frequented his apartment with his jolly laughing presence and cooked in his kitchen, his face smiling the biggest-most-stupidest grin in all of existence (in Gokudera’s opinion), while wearing an ‘I heart Fish!’ apron which was also, conveniently enough, shaped like a fish. 

The baseball-nuts’ presence irked Gokudera to no end but, in time, he came to find out that it really wasn’t so bad.  He got free food out of it—free **_nutritional_** food might he add!  Plus, Yamamoto looked ridiculous in his apron, which gave Gokudera all the more incentive to make fun of the tanned baseball player (he didn’t want the idiot to think he appreciated what he was doing for him or something silly like that).  Over all, Gokudera begrudgingly admitted that the regular visits from Yamamoto were sort of…nice, no… ** _really_** nice. And when the jovial baseball player showed up at his door with a bag of groceries and a smile, like he actually belonged there, Gokudera couldn’t help but feel—

—Shit!  He really needed to shift into high gear and get his laundry done.   He didn’t have time to daydream about a stupid, nicely tanned—scratch that thought. Where the hell was a laundry mat around here? 

The next few moments flew by like a breeze, Gokudera trying to make up for the time he had lost thinking about stupid, useless things.  The young Italian booted up his laptop and found the nearest laundry mat (nine blocks north and seven blocks east.  Great, and he probably didn’t have enough money for bus fare…), got dressed in one of the only pair of clothes he had that were clean; A red and pale-red tiger-striped short-sleeved shirt with a white skull on the right sleeve and military-green cargo pants (gifts from Bianchi that he never wanted to wear because they were **_from_** Bianchi.  He didn’t want her to think he was grateful for them or anything).  He also adorned his usual bracelets and rings before he stuffed all of his dirty laundry into two huge duffel bags, tied his hair back into a pony-tail (it was warm out and he had no choice but to walk), and left his apartment.

\---------

Gokudera’s first snag on his little journey was immediately after he left when he tried to make it down the stairs.  He lived on the second floor of an apartment complex, and his door led to an outside walkway connected to a stairs.  It just so happened that the railings around the stairs constricted anyone who was fatter than an average sized human from moving up or down them.  So, with Gokudera’s extra baggage, getting down the stairs was the equivalent of an elephant trying to squeeze through a door of a car. 

Twitching in anger, Gokudera’s quick solution to the problem, after trying and failing to walk down the stairs like a normal human-being, was throwing his duffel bags over the railings and onto the ground below, unluckily missing his bitchy landlord, who was conveniently walking by at the time (he swears he didn’t see her, but he has no regrets).  After the usual verbal scuffle were his landlord threatened to evict him and Gokudera insulted her mother’s pedigree, the hot-headed Italian was making his way, heavy duffel bags in tow, towards a nearby convenience store he frequented.  He was hoping the clerk there would exchange his bills for some change so he could actually use the laundry machines once he reached his destination. 

This was where Gokudera hit the second snag on his journey.  With his great luck, it just so happened that on this day there was a new cashier at the till who had absolutely no idea what she was doing.  The new employee stuttered uncontrollably when Gokudera asked her to exchange his money for adequate change, unsure if she was actually allowed to do such a thing without consent from a manager.  Gokudera growled in irritation, knowing full well that if this was any of the other cashiers who knew him by face and name by this point (this was where he bought his groceries, after all), he wouldn’t be having this stupid hold up.  So after what seemed like a millennia to the hot-headed Italian of yelling and giving the new cashier his best ‘do-as-I-fucking-say-or-die!’ expression, the young female clerk quickly exchanged his money for the right amount of change with shaky fingers, no doubt traumatized by the experience.  With that, Gokudera finally left the store, complaining about its lack of training protocol and hiring people with brains the size of walnuts, and started heading north towards the laundry mat.

At one point in his life, Gokudera remembered hearing about an old wives tale that said that ‘terrible things happened in threes’.  Judging by his morning, with his washing machine breaking, getting embarrassingly stuck in a stairway, and struggling with an incompetent clerk, Gokudera realized that maybe his ‘terrible threes’ were over and done with, and that he had nothing more to worry about.  Too bad that when the world decided it was going to spite Gokudera Hayato, anything and everything was possible, including the exemption of old wives tales.  Gokudera realized this fact half-way to his destination, worn and haggard from hauling two massive duffel bags full of clothes in staggering heat, that terrible things didn’t happen in threes, they happened in **_fours_**.  This was confirmed after Gokudera put down his bags and leaned against a lamp post to rest, breathing heavily from his nine block excursion.  His moment of rest was interrupted when he heard a questioning voice.

“Gokudera?”

The young Italian stiffened at the sound, knowing exactly who that voice belonged to.  Wishing beyond hope that his ears were playing a trick on him, Gokudera turned his head in the direction of the voice, eyes widening at the sight of a certain Yamamoto Takeshi, clad in the same outfit he had worn during their fight with Gamma—a simple blue-green flannel shirt with khaki pants—and waiting in front of a nearby sandwich shop.

“ _Shit, shit, shit!  Why did that idiot have to show up now when it looks like I’m struggling with something?!_ ”  The young silver-haired teen thought in alarm as he made a grab for his duffel bags lying on the sidewalk.  Too bad he had spent so much time gawking at the very possibility of running into Yamamoto (and that was the only thing Gokudera convinced himself that he was gawking at; it wasn’t because of how the sun accented Yamamoto’s figure in a very positive light! No way in hell was he gawking at that!), that the tanned, dark-haired teen was able to make his way up to Gokudera and stand in front of him.

“What’s with all those bags, Gokudera?  Are you running away or something?” Yamamoto questioned jokingly as Gokudera shifted the duffel bags back onto his shoulders.

“What the hell?!” Gokudera spat out, riled up by the Japanese boy’s stupid question.  He glared daggers into Yamamoto’s hazel eyes, the taller boy smiling a little smugly in return. Was the baseball-idiot questioning his ability as a right-hand man?  “Why the hell would I run away you idiot!?  What kind of right-hand man would I be to the Tenth if I just left him and skipped town without a word?!”

The taller boy’s response to the fuming Italian was a calming laugh and holding his hands up in a placating manner, showing the silver-haired teen that he had meant no harm.  “Now, now Gokudera it was just a joke, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

The Italian boy grumbled in his native tongue, glaring holes into the sidewalk so he didn’t have to look at Yamamoto’s stupid face.  Where was this guy coming from by asking him a question like that?  Running away from the Tenth was a heinous crime. Only traitors and enemies ran away!

“Well I’m relieved you’re not actually running away,” Yamamoto stated with his trademark grin.  Gokudera glanced up at the taller boy, broken out of his internal grumbling.  What was this idiot spouting out now? 

Noticing Gokudera’s questioning gaze, Yamamoto laughed and explained further.  “You see, if you ran away and I never saw you again, that would make me sad.  The mafia game wouldn’t be as fun without you!”

Gokudera stiffened at that.  “How many times do I have to tell you that it’s not a game, you idiot!” Gokudera spat in anger.  “It’s not supposed to be fun, and you’re supposed to take it seriously!”

“Haha, but Gokudera always takes it seriously, so what’s wrong with having a little fun?” Yamamoto questioned with a laugh, his eyes gradually becoming more serious.  “If you left, I would really miss you, you know?”

Gokudera’s throat made a weird noise, like he was being strangled, and his jade eyes widened in surprise.  “I-Idiot!” The young Italian choked out, not sure on how to respond.  He could feel heat rising to his cheeks as he looked anywhere but at the tall Japanese boy in front of him.  “I already told you I wasn’t running away, so don’t say such stupid things!”

Yamamoto chuckled at his Italian friend’s behavior; getting Gokudera flustered was always fun.  “Haha, I know that, but it still wouldn’t change the fact that I would miss you if you went away.”

These words only seemed to infuriate the silver-haired dynamite user more as he began yelling at the taller boy in Italian and started kicking him repeatedly in the shin (his hands were too busy holding his bags), the Italian’s face burning a crimson red.  After much laughing and dodging on Yamamoto’s part, Gokudera calmed down enough for the tanned baseball player to ask him another question that was bothering him.

“So, where are you going with those bags, Gokudera?  They seem kind of heavy, and you look pretty tired.”

“It’s none of your freaking business, Baseball-Freak!”  The Italian scathingly replied.  “I’m just running a little errand.”

The dark-haired baseball player tilted his head to the side like a confused puppy.  “Really?  It looks like a pretty big errand to me with all that stuff you’re carrying.  Maybe I could help?  Where are you heading to?”

Yamamoto knew from experience that it didn’t take much to tick his Italian friend off, so he wasn’t surprised when Gokudera stiffened at his questions (which was Gokudera’s defense mechanism for when anyone tried to help him with anything), and his eyes lit up like a burning fire ready to devour anything in its path. 

“Do you ever listen you stupid idiot?!  I told you it wasn’t any of your damn business!  I don’t need your help!”

Before Gokudera could even blink, he felt one of his duffel bags torn from his grasp and transferred onto Yamamoto’s shoulder.  Yamamoto wasn’t taking no for an answer.  The baseball player also knew from experience that Gokudera wasn’t one to ask for help, even when he secretly wanted it.

“Haha, wow, this bag is pretty heavy! No wonder you look so tired,” Yamamoto chuckled in amusement as he re-shifted the duffel bag to fit more comfortably over his shoulder.  “What do you have in here anyway?”

Getting over the shock of having one of his bags forcibly removed from his person without even seeing it happen, Gokudera’s irritation grew more gradually with every second he spent in the baseball-idiot’s presence.  “What the hell is this, twenty questions?!”

“Haha, well if you won’t tell me what’s inside then maybe I’ll take a look myself?” Yamamoto laughed, his voice teasing.  The taller boy knew that Gokudera couldn’t do anything to stop him from looking through the bag since he now had it in his possession; being taller, faster, and physically stronger than the smaller teen really had its perks.

Gokudera froze in fear at the teasing suggestion, a blush quickly rising to his face once he realized that the bag Yamamoto was holding contained his dark clothes and his **_boxers_**. Gokudera’s agitation only grew as Yamamoto took his silence as the go-ahead to start reaching for the bag’s zipper—

“S-Stop you idiot!  Don’t look through that!” Gokudera exclaimed desperately, catching Yamamoto’s wondering wrist in his hand.  He realized that he now had no choice but to tell his tall ‘friend’ what was going on. Cursing Yamamoto’s very existence in his mind (the boy was like a pestering fly!), the silver-haired teen quickly let go of the boy’s wrist and explained with slight embarrassment, “M-my dirty clothes are in there, s-so you better not look!”

Yamamoto was confused by this bit of information, not fully comprehending what Gokudera was trying to tell him.  After a short pause he asked, “Why are you carrying around dirty clothes?  Don’t you have a washing machine?”

It took all of Gokudera’s willpower not to face palm with his free hand.  “I shouldn’t be surprised you can’t put two and two together without help.  You really are an idiot,” the young Italian sighed out in defeat, looking more tired than he had when Yamamoto met up with him.  The Italian bomber went on to quickly explain his laundry situation, his taller companion listening with rapt attention.  After the very short story, Yamamoto gave the worn-out Italian his best up-lifting smile.

Gokudera knew nothing good would come from it.

As the young Italian expected, Yamamoto’s response to his story was, “Well then, I’ll help carry your other bag for you and keep you company while you do your laundry.  You didn’t bring anything to entertain you while you waited, right?”

Gokudera grumbled in assent, cursing his luck that he didn’t have any room in his bags to bring a book.  There wasn’t anything he could do or say now that would prove the taller teen wrong and make him go away.  “Fine, whatever,” Gokudera started, directing a stern glare towards his taller companion.  “But if you piss me off once, I won’t hesitate in blowing you up, you got that?”

If it was even possible, the smile on Yamamoto’s face grew even wider, his hazel-brown eyes dancing with unrestrained glee.  “Haha, no problem! This will be fun, I guarantee it, Gokudera!”

The Italian responded by rolling his eyes and turning around to start walking east towards their final destination, a small smirk gracing the pretty silver-haired teen’s lips.  Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all?

\---------

With one less bag to carry, Gokudera was finding it easier to walk at a steady pace.  The silver-haired teen looked to his right to see Yamamoto walking in stride with him, a little bounce to his step and that famous never-ending grin on his face.  Gokudera hated to admit that he was a little grateful for the help the taller teen was offering him; just a little. He felt kind of guilty, though, since Yamamoto was doing so much for him already by buying him groceries and cooking him food.  Why was the baseball-idiot so insistent on helping him?  Gokudera couldn’t stop the dark part of his mind from thinking that maybe his taller companion was taking pity on him.

If there was one thing that Gokudera Hayato hated more in this world, besides his father, of course, it was pity.

A spiteful gaze was directed towards the happy baseball player then.  The angry Italian wanted nothing more than to call Yamamoto out on this and give him a piece of his mind, but what came out instead was an irritated, “So what the heck were you doing in front of that sandwich shop anyway?”

Yamamoto’s happy steps faltered for a second, but his walking pace never lightened.  He stared at Gokudera, surprised at the question that was asked, and a little concerned as to why the Italian teen’s voice sounded so venomous.  Thinking quickly, Yamamoto rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and said, “Ha ha…um, no reason.  Just wanted to stand around and enjoy the scenery.  It’s a beautiful day, you know?”

Gokudera narrowed his green eyes suspiciously as his companion continued to laugh nervously beside him.  Yamamoto never seemed to realize that he sucked at lying, and Gokudera could tell within the second that he opened his mouth that the dark-haired teen wasn’t going to tell him the truth.  What bothered Gokudera was that there was no reason for Yamamoto to lie to him, so why was he doing so now?  “You suck at lying, idiot.  If you wanted to enjoy the scenery, why didn’t you go to a park or something?  Who ever heard of enjoying the scenery on a busy street?”

Yamamoto chuckled nervously at that, admitting to his guilt.  “Yeah, I guess that was a pretty bad lie.”  The baseball player felt bad for lying to his friend in the first place but he didn’t know how Gokudera would react if he told him the truth, since the spunky Italian always seemed to get angry with everything he did.  Well, there was no escape from it now; Gokudera knew he was lying, so he had to answer the question.  Besides, it wasn’t fair to Gokudera, who had been truthful with him about his laundry situation (even though Yamamoto had to practically pull teeth just to get the information out of him in the first place), so he should be open and honest as well.  “To tell you the truth, I was kind of waiting for someone.”

Gokudera’s eyes narrowed further at the vague answer.  “So you just left without meeting up with them?  Isn’t that kind of rude?” The Italian knew he shouldn’t be the one to chastise Yamamoto for this, after all, he was probably the rudest person the baseball-idiot put up with, but the thought of Yamamoto doing something rude in the first place was a little disconcerting to him.

Yamamoto chuckled at the question, giving Gokudera a worried-free smile.  “Don’t worry, they won’t mind.  I’ll just meet up with her on a different day.” 

“Ah,” The silver-haired Italian responded with a non-committed grunt.  He watched as Yamamoto grabbed his cell phone from his pocket with his free hand, a little baseball charm dangling from the end, and started punching letters on the keypad with his thumb.  Noticing the baseball player doing this for awhile, Gokudera concluded that he was probably texting that person he stood up—wait, did the baseball-idiot say, ‘her’?!    Jade eyes widening in shock, his mind quickly playing back the conversation they previously had. Gokudera came to the same conclusion. 

Yamamoto had said ‘ ** _her_** ’.

“Wait!  What the hell do you mean by ‘ _her_ ’?!” Gokudera exclaimed in anger.  The young Italian had no idea why he was feeling so angry and…betrayed?  No, that couldn’t be it. The heat was just finally getting to him.  Yeah, that had to be it.  “You stood up a freaking **_girl_**?!”

Yamamoto jumped in surprise at the older teen’s outburst, almost dropping his phone in the process.  He quickly sent the text message that he had been typing up for the past minute, berating himself for letting that word slip out.  “Don’t worry, Gokudera,” Yamamoto mumbled sheepishly. “It was just a little date.  It’s nothing to get upset over.”

“D-Date?!” Gokudera choked out in disbelief, for some reason hoping he didn’t hear that correctly. 

Why did it feel like something was smothering him?  It was getting harder and harder to breath.

“A **_date_**?! You stood up a date so you could do laundry with me?!  That makes no fucking **_sense_**! Why would you do that, and who the hell said I was upset?!”

“You sound upset,” Yamamoto muttered guiltily, eyes saddening at the thought.  He hated how flustered Gokudera actually sounded.  The taller teen just didn’t understand why his smaller friend sounded that way.  

“I-I’m not upset, you idiot!”  Gokudera stuttered out, a slight blush rising to his cheeks.  Why would the baseball-idiot think he was upset?  He had nothing to be upset about!  It was just Yamamoto going on a date…with a girl…that was perfectly normal and there was nothing to be upset over, right?  The young Italian took a deep breath to calm himself and steady his voice then.  “So… why did you ditch her to help me anyway?  You would have had more fun hanging out with her than doing laundry with me…”

“Haha, that’s not true!”

Gokudera stared at Yamamoto incredulously.  Was this guy for real? Why did he look so happy?

A smile and a laugh back in his voice, Yamamoto couldn’t help but see the look Gokudera was giving him.  “Haha, Gokudera is always fun, so I never have to worry about being bored.  Besides, you looked like you could use the help.  If my friends need help then I can’t just stand by and let them go at it alone.”

Gokudera sighed irritably.  “It’s not like it was a matter between life and death, you idiot.  And who said I was your friend?”

“Haha, but you are, Gokudera,” Yamamoto responded with certainty.  They had known each other for a long time now and had been through numerous dangerous situations together.  How could they not be friends?

Gokudera turned his head away from the beaming smile Yamamoto was directing at him, another blush making its way onto his face (shit he was doing that a lot today! It had to be the stupid heat’s fault!).  “Yeah…well...” The Italian coughed distractedly, trying to start a different conversation.  “So…uh, who was the girl anyway?”

Yamamoto gave a small ‘oh’ of surprise at the change of topic, but answered nonetheless.  “I don’t think you know her; she’s a year below us, but she is one of my senpai’s sisters.”

The young Italian raised an eyebrow inquiringly.  “Senpai? As in one of your baseball senpai’s?”

“Yep!” Was the happy reply he received, as if Yamamoto was congratulating him for guessing right.  “She’s into baseball, too. I think she said she was on a girl’s team or something.”

Gokudera had no idea why his heart clenched painfully all of a sudden, or why he felt disheartened at the girl’s description, but it didn’t stop him from hating the feeling nonetheless.  Maybe he ate something bad for breakfast?  Oh wait, he didn’t have breakfast…

“Che!” Gokudera scoffed, trying his best to sound disinterested and uncaring but, in the end, sounding more bitter than anything else.  “She sounds like the perfect person for you.  You really are an idiot for ditching her.”

Seeing such a bitter scowl on his companion’s face, Yamamoto couldn’t help but feel guilty and upset.  He wanted to wipe that scowl off; maybe he could find a way to make Gokudera smile?  “I’m not sure about her being perfect for me just because we like the same things, but I don’t mind postponing my date with her to help you, you know?”

“You didn’t need to help me…”

“Yeah, but I wanted to,” Yamamoto pressed on, trying to get his point across so that Gokudera would listen to what he was saying for once. “I didn’t really care about the date in the first place.  My senpai was just trying to set me up with his sister ‘cuz he thought we were a good match or something.  But…I wanted to help Gokudera because Gokudera was more important.” Yamamoto paused for a second before adding, his voice completely serious, “Gokudera is **_always_** more important.”

The said teen inhaled sharply at the conviction in Yamamoto’s voice, his heart beginning to race so fast that he had to stop walking to catch his breath.  Noticing his friend stop, Yamamoto turned around to gaze at him questioningly.  The baseball player didn’t expect to see Gokudera looking flustered and glaring at him in confusion, a blush completely covering his face.  Yamamoto couldn’t help but stare at how adorable Gokudera looked, face flushed with his hair in a pony-tail, trying to form words but failing. 

“Y-You…” The smaller boy finally stuttered out, unable to keep eye contact with his companion as he mulled over the words that were spoken to him.  Not wanting to think about the words and their ** _implications_** , Gokudera did the thing he always did best when faced with an emotional situation.

He ran away. 

With an angry call of, ‘Idiot!’ directed over his shoulder, Gokudera ran past Yamamoto as fast as his feet would carry him. 

Woken up from his stupor, Yamamoto laughed as he saw a very flustered Gokudera rush past him. Not wanting to be left behind, he decided to give chase.  “Ha ha, hold up, Gokudera!  I don’t know where the laundry mat is!”

The response the athlete received from the flustered Italian sounded like “I don’t care! Stop following me!” but he couldn’t be sure; Gokudera could really run fast when he wanted to.  So, he decided to ignore it and picked up the pace in order to catch up with his hot-blooded friend, enjoying the chase for all its worth. 

Yamamoto got the feeling that today was going to be a very interesting day. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, here's a little longer chapter. The only warnings I have for this is that there will be some angst thrown into this chapter, and that Gokudera still has a swearing problem. The other thing I want to mention is that I state Gokudera to be older than Yamamoto. This is because, if you think about it, if the boys are all supposed to be the same age, 14, and the school year in Japan starts in April, that means that Yamamoto, in my opinion, would have to be younger than Gokudera. Yama's birthday is is April, and Dera's is in September, so if the boys (the main three anyway) are supposed to be 14 by the time they enter their second year of Middle School, Dera would have to be 14 already going into the school year (Tsuna as well since his birthday is in...October or November...can't remember), and Yama would quickly turn 14 at the end of April right when the next school year starts. That's at least, how I see it, but I think it might be possible for things to be the other way around as well depending on how you take certain situations, but I think it makes more sense my way XD Anyway, I hope you guys don't mind that I made Gokudera older than Yamamoto

It didn’t take long for Gokudera, with Yamamoto closely following behind, to make it to their destination after running the rest of the way.  The young, flustered Italian panted heavily, his face flushed from exertion and embarrassment, remembering why he was running in the first place.

“Ahahahaha! That was a fun work out!”

Gokudera growled in irritation at his pesky ‘friend’, wishing the idiot would just go away already.  The silver-haired teen must have said what he was thinking out loud, though, because the next moment, Yamamoto was laughing again and clapping him on the back.

“I can’t just leave you, Gokudera.  I promised I would help you!”

Gokudera whipped his head around to face the taller teen, seething with anger.  “You didn’t promise me shit!  Now go away!”

Yamamoto’s hazel-brown eyes scrunched in confusion, head tilting comically to the side.  “I didn’t?  Hmm…”

Gokudera’s eyebrows twitched in irritation, a deep scowl forming on his face as he watched his companion trying to think (Gokudera noted it looked like it hurt) while also noticing that the taller boy still had his hand on his should after he had slapped his back earlier.  It felt warm…

“Ah!”  Yamamoto exclaimed and snapped his fingers on his free hand, also effectively snapping Gokudera out of his thoughts that were becoming…uncomfortable.  “I guess I didn’t promise you earlier like I thought I had, haha! So how about I make a promise to help you now?  What do you say, Gokudera?”

The tall, dark-haired boy’s eyes bore into the frazzled green of his companion’s, his constant smile almost pleading for assent.  Gokudera noticed a very uncomfortable feeling in his gut then that felt like a mixture between the stomach aches he got around his sister and the intrigue he felt when he read up on the latest UFO’s.  This feeling continued growing stronger with every minute that passed with him looking into the taller boy’s eyes, the young Italian feeling the weirdest inclination to lean his head forward…

Immediately deciding that prolonging this action could only end in disaster, Gokudera threw Yamamoto’s hand off from around his shoulder in a flustered huff.

“Whatever, let’s just get this done and over with already.  I’ve wasted enough time fooling around today!”  The flushed Italian choked out as he stomped into the laundry mat, Yamamoto laughing jovially as he followed him.

Once the two boys finally made it into the building, they both quickly came to realize that the place was sort of small.  There were about a dozen drying machines stacked together along the back wall to their left, with a folding station resting along the wall in front of them.  There were also about a dozen washing machines placed in the middle of the floor, with a little waiting area with plush chairs and open-benches to their right. The wall behind them held the front door (obviously) along with a huge window that took up one half of the wall to show the busy sidewalk outside. 

Despite its small size, the laundry mat was very busy that day, and Gokudera was rather quick to notice that all the machines were occupied at the moment.

Great. That was just **_great_**.

Cursing colorfully enough for every mother in the building, as well as outside, to glare disapprovingly at him, Gokudera made his way to a waiting bench since all the comfy chairs were taken as well.  Yamamoto laughed nervously, and raised his hands up, trying to placate the angry mothers who continued to glare at the Italian delinquent, who was grumpily ignoring every one of them as he sat dejectedly on the nearest open bench.  The dark-haired boy quickly sat next to his sulking friend, setting his duffel bag down next to Gokudera’s, and fidgeted uncomfortably while he tried to figure out a conversation that wouldn’t upset the smaller teen further.  Knowing in the end that it was futile, Yamamoto just decided to say what was on his mind.

“So can I help you do the laundry, too?  With two of us it will go quicker.”

To Yamamoto’s surprise, Gokudera started laughing, actually **_laughing_**.  Scared that maybe his young friend had finally snapped from his stressful morning, Yamamoto made to grab onto the smaller teen and shake him to a normal state of mind, but, before he could, Gokudera tried to speak.

“Ha…ha…”  The older boy started, gasping for breath while he clutched his stomach and wiping laughing tears from his eyes.  “Y-you…doing laundry?  Don’t make me laugh!”

Yamamoto didn’t want to be the one to point out that he had already accomplished that task, so he decided to speak up instead.  “Um…but I really want to, Gokudera.”

The Italian boy snapped back to his usual self in an instant, glaring threateningly up at the taller boy.  “Like hell I would let you clean my stuff!  You don’t even know how to do laundry so you’d just end up ruining everything!”

Yamamoto laughed sheepishly at that.  “Well, that’s true, I kind of forgot about that, but maybe you can teach me?”

Gokudera’s eyes narrowed at the pleading look on the baseball-idiot’s face.  There was no way he was falling for this trick again.  “No. Way. In. Hell!”

“You don’t have to sound so insulted, Gokudera,” Yamamoto chuckled out uncomfortably, scratching the back of his head.  The dark-haired boy’s eyes suddenly widened as he thought of something.  “Okay, so I won’t help you with your laundry, but I will help you carry it back to your apartment, okay?  Let’s make it a promise!”

“Shut up with your stupid promises already!” Gokudera yelled, his face contorting in indignation as he stood up angrily from the bench.  “Stop making promises I don’t want you to keep in the first place, idiot!”

“Haha, you’re so funny, Gokudera!”

Sighing in exhaustion, Gokudera knew when Yamamoto was purposefully ignoring him.  The exhausted teen sank back down onto the bench in defeat.  Today was just not his day.

As if to make his day even **_worse_** (if that was even possible), the following silence that ensued was long enough for Yamamoto to grow quickly bored (Gokudera swore the boy had A.D.D.).  This prompted the said baseball-idiot with A.D.D. to pick up the duffel bag he had stolen from Gokudera beforehand and riffle through it without the Italian teen’s knowledge. 

It wasn’t long before Yamamoto struck gold.

Before Gokudera could realize what had just transpired, Yamamoto gave a triumphant laugh as he pulled a pair of boxers from his bag.

“Ahahaha, how cute!  Even your boxers have fireworks on them!”

Gokudera gave a startled cry as he stared in horror at the red pair of boxers with the dynamite stick motif on them (not fireworks!) hanging from Yamamoto’s triumphant hand. 

“Y-you asshole!  Put those back!” The Italian shouted embarrassingly, making a grab for the offending garment.

Yamamoto just laughed in good humor and stretched his hand away from the flailing Italian.  “Haha, but they’re so cute, Gokudera!  Why would you want to hide them?”

It was no surprise that every person in the laundry mat was staring questioningly at the two sitting boys by now.  There confused stares were ignored for the most part as Gokudera continued to grab for his underwear, unconsciously leaning against Yamamoto who was laughing and trying his best to keep them away from the flailing teen.  It was actually in this position with Gokudera breathing heavily, his chest pressed against Yamamoto’s shoulder and stretching his arms high to reach his boxers, that Yamamoto faltered, realizing him and Gokudera’s close proximity and how Gokudera’s shirt lifted just _so_ to show a patch of creamy-pale skin.  Taking advantage of the taller teen’s distraction, (even though Gokudera had no idea why the idiot had suddenly become distracted) the silver-haired teen swiped his boxers out of the tanned athlete’s slackening hand, returning them to their rightful owner.  Not wasting any time, Gokudera grabbed the duffel bag with the rest of his boxers in it, and made a run for a now conveniently open washing machine, rudely cutting off an old lady heading in the same direction.  As the smaller teen did this, Yamamoto could only watch him in stunned silence, his eyes dazed from his previous distraction and a slight blush adorning his face.  

After finally commandeering the washer (the one conveniently closest to the door just in case he needed to make a quick getaway), Gokudera set to work, his movements stiff with anger as he piled his darks (including his boxers) into the washer, taking more time than was deemed necessary so as not to look at Yamamoto.  This of course, was for the taller teens own safety.  At the moment, Gokudera couldn’t be held responsible for strangling the other boy on sight and blowing up his corpse to hide the evidence.  It was the baseball-idiot’s fault for embarrassing him in the first place, and in public no less!  Gokudera swore the only thing stopping him from doing such a deed at the moment was the thought of how disappointed and saddened the Tenth would be if he blew up one of his best friends.

Noticing his friend’s stewing anger, Yamamoto felt a pang of guilt hit him like a force of bricks.  He shouldn’t have embarrassed Gokudera like that in public.  When he hung out with the silver-haired Italian, Yamamoto would often forget that there were other people around because he was so focused on the young, feisty teen.  How could he not be focused on him?  Gokudera practically demanded all of Yamamoto’s attention with the way he talked, the way he walked, the way Gokudera did, well, **_everything_**.  Gokudera was absolutely mesmerizing to him.

With a sad sigh, Yamamoto rose from the bench and walked over to Gokudera, who was still throwing his dark clothes into the washer with venomous force, as if the clothes had done him a personal wrong.  Yamamoto rubbed the back of his head uncertainly as he stood behind the fiery teen, trying to think of what to say, and wincing every time Gokudera threw in another one of his clothes, the inside of the washer ringing ominously with each hit. 

“Um…Gokudera?”

The silver-haired teen continued to fill the washer as if he hadn’t heard anything.  Shifting to the side, the pissed-off Italian then bent down, riffled through his duffel bag, and hauled out a big bottle of laundry soap.  Yamamoto’s eyebrows rose at that.  So that’s why the duffel bag he was carrying was so heavy…

“Look, Gokudera, I’m sorry about earlier.  What I did was uncalled for,” Yamamoto started again, an apologetic tone lacing his every word.

Gokudera’s answer was the slamming of the washer lid, which effectively made everyone in the store jump in surprise at the sound.  He kept his back turned to Yamamoto, his hands still lying on top of the washer lid from where he had slammed it.  Yamamoto could sense the killing intent wafting off of the young Italian in waves.

His voice taking on a hint of nervousness, Yamamoto continued to try and apologize.  “I-I’m really, really sorry, Gokudera!  If…if there’s anything—no, I’ll do anything to make it up to you!”

 _“Then how about you shut up and leave me the hell alone?!”_ Was what Gokudera was dying to say, but his stomach beat him to the chase, giving off an angry growl from lack of nourishment.  The silver-haired boy blushed in embarrassment, frozen in place, and now completely refusing to turn around and look at the teen behind him because of it.  He had a feeling he knew where this was going to go.

“Did you forget to eat breakfast again, Gokudera?” Yamamoto asked in wonder after a short silence, his nervousness momentarily forgotten upon hearing the other’s stomach. The rain guardian’s eyes became serious, flashing with worry when he thought of Gokudera not treating himself well. Before his friend could even answer his previous question, Yamamoto was quick to offer his suggestion.  “You probably don’t have much money on you at the moment, do you?  How about I go and buy us some bento at a convenience store for lunch?”

Gokudera gave an irritated growl at Yamamoto’s tone of voice.  He didn’t want any pity; the damn idiot knew about his money situation, especially during the end of the month, and he really didn’t need this now.  The young Italian knew it was a losing battle, though.  He hadn’t eaten anything decent for the past couple of days since he ran out of instant food in his apartment, and Yamamoto had been too busy with baseball practice and his dad’s sushi shop to help him cook anything, and— damn it he was hungry! 

“Fine,” Gokudera mumbled gruffly, still not turning around to look at his companion.  “Just be quick about it, idiot, I’m starving.”

Gokudera didn’t have to see Yamamoto to know the idiot was smiling like he had just won the lottery.

“Haha alright, I’ll be as quick as I can!  I think I saw a store just down the street from here.”

Yamamoto practically jumped for joy at the chance to do something that would help his friend.  He quickly grabbed the door, which was a few feet away from him and Gokudera, the bells on the door chiming at the action, and stood in the open doorway.  The tall, dark-haired boy glanced back at his friend and gave him his best winning smile, even though Gokudera was still refusing to look at him.

“Just wait right there, Gokudera, I’ll be back in a flash.  Don’t go anywhere now!”

Yamamoto’s smile grew wider as Gokudera gave him the reaction he was looking for.  The young Italian quickly spun around and yelled “Where the hell would I go when I have all this shit to do?!  Are you stupid?!”

The dark-haired teen laughed joyfully, happy that he was finally able to get Gokudera to look at him.  Instead of answering the smaller teen, though, Yamamoto ran out the door and down the side walk towards the convenience store, waving to Gokudera through the huge store-front window as he passed.

Gokudera gave another sigh of exhaustion once Yamamoto left to run his errand.  He quickly dug through his pockets to get the right amount of change to start the washer, all the while thinking how that baseball-idiot was going to kill him someday with his annoying kindness.  The young Italian secretly smiled at that.  Maybe it wasn’t such a bad way to go?

\-----

The tinkling of bells declared Yamamoto’s return ten minutes later as he opened up the door to the laundry mat and glanced around for his friend.  A quick glance to the left showed him that Gokudera had taken his words to heart and had not moved from his place by the washer.  Yamamoto chuckled a bit in amusement as he idled over to his hungry friend, who had taken it upon himself to sit on top of the washing machine, much to the chagrin and disproving glares of his fellow laundry mat users. Gokudera, of course, didn’t seem to care.

“Haha, I didn’t think you would actually listen to me!” Yamamoto chuckled good-naturedly, his eyes dancing with achievement as he approached the young Italian sitting on the washer.  Said Italian bristled in agitation at his words.

“Like hell I would do that!” The feisty Italian berated him.  “I moved and brought back my other duffel so that I could guard both of them. Since you had the bright idea to go and wave my underwear for **_everyone_** to see, those college girls in the back have been eyeing my stuff ever since then like they want to steal it.” 

Wincing slightly at the reminder of his embarrassing behavior, Yamamoto turned to look at where Gokudera was glaring at behind them; the taller boy’s eyes widened in slight interest at seeing a small group of university girls sitting in the waiting area with baskets full of clothes.   Noticing the boy’s staring at them, the gaggle of girls burst out into embarrassing giggles and started whispering conspiratorially to each other in excitement. 

“Haha, they’re acting like the fan-girls at school, don’t you think?”

“All the more reason to keep a close eye on them to make sure they don’t do anything.”

Yamamoto laughed at his friend’s paranoia, finally turning around from eyeing the suspicious girls to look at his friend.  The baseball player offered up a plastic convenience store bag, a small calming smile on his lips.  “Well, let’s just ignore them like we usually do and enjoy our lunch, okay?”

Gokudera gave a disapproving snort at his companion’s lack of wariness, but eyed the bag that contained probably the most nutritional and fulfilling food he had had in days with ravenous eyes.  “You better not have gotten me something awful, Baseball-Idiot.”

Yamamoto chuckled amusedly, giving his friend an endearing smile.  “I would never do that, Gokudera.  Look, I got you a bento with that eel sushi you like so much.” 

Gokudera’s eyes widened in surprise as Yamamoto pulled out said bento with said eel sushi (there was some fatty tuna sushi in there also, but he really didn’t mind).  The young Italian tried very hard not to salivate like a begging dog as Yamamoto handed him his bento and then reached back into his bag to grab what looked like an iced coffee.

“Haha, I know it probably isn’t the best beverage to go with sushi, but I heard you really like this stuff,” Yamamoto laughed sheepishly, handing Gokudera the iced coffee with tentative hands. 

Gokudera stared at the coffee in shock.  He wondered when Yamamoto had found out that he liked iced coffee, since he hardly drank it; it was way more expensive than soda, so he usually drank the latter.  Sometimes it surprised him how perceptive Yamamoto could actually be.

Blushing, Gokudera quickly mumbled a thank you as he tore the iced beverage from Yamamoto’s hands and concentrated on opening his bento, all the while doing his best to ignore the ecstatic smile Yamamoto was now blessing him with.  The taller teen was thrilled at actually receiving a thank you (even though it was quick and hardly audible) from his shorter friend.  Snapping out of his thoughts, Yamamoto then proceeded to take out his own bento, which was the same as Gokudera’s (fatty tuna was his favorite!), and a bottle of milk. 

Gokudera snorted and rolled his eyes upon seeing the milk beverage in the baseball player’s hand (Yamamoto was so predictable sometimes).  He scooted over to the far side of the washer he was sitting on in the process, so that Yamamoto had a place to set his bento.  With Gokudera sitting at the far end of the washer, his bento in his lap, Yamamoto had enough room to set down his bento and glass of milk next to Gokudera’s iced coffee, making a makeshift table.  Hopefully the manager of the store wouldn’t walk in to see the misuse of his precious washing machine; Yamamoto was pretty sure they’d be kicked out. 

With a friendly atmosphere surrounding them, the two boys started to eat their lunch in companionable silence; Gokudera trying hard not to eat his too fast and get sick (he was starving!).  It was only a short time into their meal when Yamamoto’s cell phone went off.  The taller teen blinked in surprise, recognizing the ring tone.  He quickly swallowed a mouth full of rice, grabbing his phone from his pocket in the process, and quickly headed for the door.

“I’ll be back in a bit, Gokudera,” Yamamoto stated as he glanced back over his shoulder at his surprised and questioning companion.  “I’ll just take this call outside.”

With a small, reassuring smile, Yamamoto shut the door of the laundry mat behind him, the bells above the door tinkling his dismissal.  Gokudera watched with slight interest, his bento completely forgotten, and his chopsticks, carrying a piece of stir fried broccoli, were half way to his mouth as Yamamoto walked by the large window in front of the store and stopped near the end.  He was still clearly visible through the glass.  From his position on the washing machine, Gokudera could still see Yamamoto’s back and the side of his face.  Wondering why Yamamoto had decided to talk outside instead of in the store intrigued Gokudera enough for the other to forget his hunger and secretly watch the conversation outside unfold before him.

\-----

Finally making it outside where he knew Gokudera wouldn’t be able to hear him, Yamamoto prepared himself with a deep, steady breathe, and answered his phone.

“Hello?”

“Yamamoto?!”

“Ah, Daichi-senpai, I wasn’t expecting you to call!” Yamamoto exclaimed, faking enthusiasm that only his closest friends would notice.  Of course, what he had just said was a complete lie; he had gotten used to these calls from his older teammate, and had given him a specific ring tone to warn him of his impending calls.  They never boded well for Yamamoto. 

“Huh, I don’t believe that for a second!” Was Daichi’s angry reply.  “I just got a text from Airi saying that you ditched her again!  This was the fifth time, Yamamoto, the **_fifth_** time!  What the hell do you think you’re doing; playing with my little sister’s heart like that?!”

“Now, now, Senpai,” Yamamoto stated seriously, his free hand coming up defensively, even though the older boy couldn’t see it.  “I didn’t mean to call off our date like that again, something just came up.”

Yamamoto’s older teammate huffed in disbelief on the other line.  “Let me guess, it had something to do with that charity case of yours—that foul mouthed delinquent you always hang out with.”

The taller Japanese teen tensed at those words, his free hand unconsciously balling up into a fist at his side.  “Gokudera needed my help,” he stated defensively, like that was all his teammate needed to know to understand.  The older baseball player ** _had_** to understand.

“You always say that!”  Daichi yelled back in response, his voice thick with exasperation.  “You always say you need to help that guy and end up ditching my sister for him every, single, **_time_**!  I’ve seen how that guy acts around you.  He treats you like shit, Yamamoto! He **_always_** treats you like shit, and yet you always end up helping him!  That’s complete crap!”

Yamamoto ground his teeth together angrily, his eyes narrowing dangerously with every word that spilled from his senpai’s mouth.  Daichi didn’t understand how Gokudera worked; no one seemed to.  Trying his best to keep his voice calm, the dark-haired teen rationalized with himself that he just needed to explain his situation better to his senpai. 

“Look, Senpai, you don’t know Gokudera like I do,” Yamamoto started, all humor leaving his voice.  “He’s…really difficult to read for most people, but that’s because he tries to chase everybody away with his words and actions.  Underneath that, Gokudera is just really shy and stubborn; he tries to hide that he needs help when he really does need it.  You know that he lives alone and can’t completely support himself—”

“Really, Yamamoto, I can’t find myself to care at this point,” Daichi interrupted rather rudely, fed up with his underclassman’s excuses.  “I’ve never liked that stupid foreigner, and I probably never will.  He’s an ass, and you’re too kind or blind to see it.  He’s probably just free-loading off of your kindness and doesn’t actually give a shit about you!”

“You’re wrong!”

There was silence on the other line after Yamamoto’s rather loud outburst.  The younger teen’s body shook with undisguised fury, his eyes wild with rage and aggravation; the complete opposite of his usual happy-go-lucky demeanor.  His senpai had no right to insult Gokudera, no **_right_** when he didn’t even know him, when he didn’t even **_try_** to know him.

“Gokudera isn’t like that,” Yamamoto started, his voice shaking with barely controlled anger.  “You don’t know him, Senpai, and I know you never want to, but **_I_** know him.  So let me tell you this so you at least know **_something_** …”

Yamamoto heard a sharp inhale from Daichi at the jab to his intelligence, no doubt a little apprehensive to be at the receiving end of an angry Yamamoto; something which he and the baseball team had been sure could never happen. 

“Know that whenever there’s a situation where my friends need help, I will always help them.  They will **_always_** come first.  I’m sorry that I’ve been setting your sister aside for my friend, but I don’t know your sister. She’s not my friend, and because of that, Gokudera is more important to me.”

There was a long silence on the other line where Yamamoto wondered if his senpai had hung up on him.  Before Yamamoto became more fed up and could hang up himself, Daichi finally decided to speak. 

“He’s more important?” The upperclassman asked with a hint of finality in his voice, wondering if that truly was Yamamoto’s answer.

Yamamoto didn’t even need to think.

“Yes.”

There was a heavy sigh on the other line, one filled with defeat and agitation.  “Fine, whatever Yamamoto…I guess I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.”

“Y-yeah…” Yamamoto stuttered uncomfortably, calming down enough to realize he had just fought with one of his older teammates. Hopefully this didn’t screw up the team’s dynamic.

 After that, Daichi hung up, leaving Yamamoto to wonder what he had just done.  He knew why he had gone off on his senpai like that; he was defending Gokudera from being blamed for something he had no control of.  It wasn’t the silver-haired teen’s fault that Yamamoto had decided to help him.  The dark-haired teen had consciously made that decision because he had wanted to help his friend out.

…No, that wasn’t completely true. 

Yamamoto gave a strained sigh, rubbing his forehead in agitation as he leaned against the humongous laundry mat window, the previous call stirring up very unwanted doubts in his mind.  He knew that he not only wanted to help Gokudera, he wanted to be around the fiery teen all the time as much as he possible could.  He knew it was very unfair to Airi-chan, Daichi-senpai’s little sister, that he would prefer being around his young, ill-tempered friend. Yamamoto would often ditch her for that very reason, coming up with ridiculous excuses just so he could hang out with Gokudera instead. 

He **_liked_** Gokudera. 

He liked the silver-haired teen more than anyone else he had ever met.  He liked him more than the throngs of fan-girls at his school, more than **_any_** of the girls at his school. And Yamamoto knew it was wrong.  It was terribly wrong, and Gokudera would **_never_** see him in the same way. Yamamoto was trying so hard to distract himself from the beautiful Italian by doing random things like, for instance, accepting to take his senpai’s sister out on a date, but with every distraction, with every part of himself telling him that feeling this way was dangerous and would only hurt him, he only wanted Gokudera more.  The moment his silver-haired friend showed up, everything Yamamoto told himself not to do flew out the metaphorical window and he planted himself right beside the person he wanted the most but knew he could probably never have.

It wasn’t hard to see that Gokudera only had eyes for Tsuna.

Yamamoto sighed despairingly, slouching further against the laundry mat window, wondering why he was making himself go through this and why he had even come to the laundry mat in the first place. 

\-----

While all this was transpiring, Gokudera continued to watch from his sitting position on the washing machine.  The silver-haired boy’s eyes narrowed dangerously, eyebrows furrowing with concentration as he watched the change in Yamamoto’s demeanor; seeing his once happy face become frustrated, and from there, turn downright furious. Gokudera had experienced an angry Yamamoto before, heck he was probably the first person to ever piss Yamamoto off (Gokudera was surprised to feel a little twisted satisfaction at the thought), but to see someone else (who? Gokudera had no idea) bring Yamamoto down enough for the taller boy to start yelling into his phone was enough to make Gokudera feel concerned. 

“ _Who the fuck is this person to make Yamamoto so upset like that?!_ ” The silver-haired bomber thought heatedly as he saw his friend shake in fury from the other side of the window.  Who the hell did this person think he/she was?!  Gokudera had to restrain himself from marching out there and stealing the phone from an aggravated Yamamoto’s hands just to bitch this mystery person out, find out his/her address, and then precede to freaking bomb their ass into next week (or an early grave. Gokudera was too pissed-off to really care for the small details at the moment).

The young Italian was brought out of his very violent thoughts at the sight of Yamamoto hanging up his phone and leaning heavily against the window, the other rubbing his temples tiredly as his shoulders sagged in defeat.  Gokudera was at a loss for words.  It had been such a long time since he saw that kind of look on the tall baseball player’s face.  He looked just like he did after Gokudera had ticked him off during their fight with Gamma, except…it looked so much sadder, like Yamamoto didn’t want to deal with something anymore.

It looked like…like Yamamoto was giving up.

Gokudera’s jade-green eyes practically popped out of his head at this revelation.  The Italian was one hundred percent certain that giving up wasn’t even part of the baseball-idiot’s vocabulary.  Yamamoto Takeshi did not, under any circumstances, **_give up_** ; he persisted until he succeeded or pestered you enough until you wanted to sock him in the face!  Gokudera had absolutely no idea what Yamamoto was giving up on, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to stand by and watch the idiot do it.  This was wrong, and whoever made his friend feel this way was going to pay, ** _painfully_**!

Not sparing a second thought at just calling Yamamoto his ‘friend’ and his personal vendetta against this mystery jerk-wad who had hurt him, Gokudera scanned the laundry mat, looking for anything that could cheer the baseball-idiot up.  Seeing as how Yamamoto was brought to the point of doing un-characteristic things, Gokudera had to do something big in order to make the idiot forget about whatever had just happened. 

…

What the hell?! He had no idea on how to cheer the idiot up!  He was so used to the taller teen being happy all the time with everything.  Would anything he did actually make the idiot smile again?  Looking down at his bento box, Gokudera noticed that most of his food portions were equally divided after eating about half of it; he still had some eel and fatty tuna sushi left over.  Quickly glancing over at Yamamoto’s bento, Gokudera realized that the idiot had gotten the same bento as him, but only the fatty tuna was eaten and nothing much of anything else.  He knew from hanging out at the Takesushi shop that Yamamoto was a raving fan for fatty tuna…

Giving a disgruntled sigh as a certain thought struck him, Gokudera sucked up his pride and placed the rest of his fatty tuna in Yamamoto’s bento.  The young Italian was kind of desperate to try this, since he was certain that giving Yamamoto food probably wasn’t the best way on cheering him up, but he had absolutely no idea on what to do!  He wasn’t good with this cheering up thing; that was Yamamoto’s department.

And why did this have to happen when he was starving, damn it?!

Trying hard not to look down at his now emptier bento box and change his mind about the whole ordeal, Gokudera, instead, opted to text the very depressed Yamamoto still sulking outside.  The young Italian knew he wasn’t good with emotional confrontation, so maybe texting the idiot and pretending that nothing happened would work better?  The silver-haired teen did just that; quickly typing in the first thing that came to his mind and sending it off.  He then turned to look back out the window and nervously waited for his friend’s reaction.

…

Holy crap, that text was sure taking its sweet, freaking time!  Maybe Yamamoto was ignoring his phone?  Gokudera could sympathize. He probably would ignore his phone, too, if he had only used it minutes prior during an extremely heated argument.  Damn it, why was he so nervous?!  He was acting like fretting school-girl!

Before Gokudera could scold himself for such disturbing actions, the teen saw movement out of the corner of his eye.  Yamamoto had turned and was now looking at his jean’s pocket in honest confusion.  The taller boy looked like he was debating with himself for a moment before Gokudera saw him reach into his pocket, draw out his phone, flip open the screen, and scanned its contents.  Was that the text he had just sent?

\-----

The moment Yamamoto felt his phone vibrate in his pants pocket, he had felt confused and apprehensive.  The dark-haired teen debated with himself for a moment; what if that was his senpai texting him about the conversation they had just had?  Yamamoto didn’t know if he could take anymore anger and emotional doubts if that were the case. 

Always being the one to look on the bright side of things, Yamamoto hoped for the best and retrieved his phone.  He then flipped open the screen and opened the text message to see who it was from.  The taller teen’s soft, hazel eyes widened in surprise to note that the text had been sent from Gokudera instead.  It read:

[fr: Gokudera]: _Oi idiot you better get in here fast if you want your bento!  I saw this fat lady in the corner eyeing it so you better get in here before I throw it at her ‘cuz she’s starting to creep me out!  I’m not at fault for whatever happens to it, you got me?_

Yamamoto blinked a couple of times in surprise, rereading the text again to make sure he had read it correctly.  Before he could stop it, the mental image of Gokudera fending off a rabid, salivating, fat lady with his duffel bag, and readying himself to throw his bento in her face, pushed its way to the front of his mind.  The taller boy couldn’t stop himself from laughing; completely forgetting about his previous troubles, if just for the moment. 

Turning his head to peer through the window he was leaning against, he caught sight of his friend still sitting on the washer.  At first, Gokudera seemed caught off guard by the taller boy looking at him, but, shortly after, he did something that Yamamoto didn’t expect, he waved at him.  It was a tentative wave, like Gokudera was unsure of what he was doing or how to do it properly, but it was a friendly gesture nonetheless, and Yamamoto couldn’t stop the fluttery feeling rising in his chest.  The taller boy’s eyes softened as he waved back, a small smile making its way onto his lips.  Before he could decide against it, Yamamoto threw his previous doubts to the back of his mind and decided to enjoy the time he had with his friend by going back inside the building.  There Gokudera was waiting for him; his green eye’s searching his for something Yamamoto wasn’t sure about.

Feeling a little uncomfortable at the other boy’s scrutiny, Yamamoto glanced around the laundry mat; his eye’s picking up something amiss. 

“Hey, Gokudera?” Yamamoto asked in confusion before he could stop himself.  “Where is the fat lady you were talking about?  I don’t see her.”

The older boy seemed to be caught off guard by that, if his spluttering sounds were anything to go by.  Yamamoto thought it was adorable. 

“Well…um…” Was Gokudera’s intelligent reply. Unable to come up with an adequate response to the question, he just decided to ignore it.  “W-Whatever, it doesn’t matter, you idiot!  Just eat your food before I eat it myself!”

Yamamoto stared at Gokudera for a moment, gasping as he came to a conclusion.  “Oh, so **_you’re_** the fat lady, Gokudera!  Hahaha! Why didn’t you just tell me that you would eat it in the first place?”

“What the hell did you just call me?!”  The fiery teen exclaimed at the taller boy’s proclamation.  Yamamoto just laughed at the silver-haired boy’s expense, clutching his stomach from the bouts of honestly joyful laughter coursing through his body.  Gokudera couldn’t stay mad for long after that.  Seeing Yamamoto back to his usual self sent such satisfying relief through him that Gokudera couldn’t stop the small smile that broke through his usual scowling facade.  “Idiot, just eat your food.”

Yamamoto couldn’t help but stare a little bit.  Being graced with Gokudera’s smile was such a rare gift that the taller teen had to drink all of it in, burning it deep into his memory.  Making sure not to upset the friendly mood that rarely occurred between them, Yamamoto quickly made his way to the washer and to his still hardly touched bento box.  The dark-haired baseball player blinked in confusion upon seeing some fatty tuna placed within it, though.  He clearly remembered eating all of his; they were the very first thing he had eaten the moment he had opened the box…

The taller boy’s eyes widened in astonishment as a thought popped into his head.  Feeling he understood what had just transpired while he was out of the store, he quickly glanced at his lunch partner for confirmation.  Of course, Gokudera was looking anywhere but at him, focusing intently on his bento.

“Gokudera, did you give me these?” Yamamoto asked softly, indicating the fatty tuna that had magically appeared back in his bento box.

The teen bomber choked on the mouthful of rice he had tried to swallow, trying and failing to hide the small blush that made its way onto his cheeks.  “W-What the hell are you talking about?  Why would I do that?”

“Well, I do specifically remember eating all of mine, since fatty tuna is my favorite sushi and all,” Yamamoto stated with a knowing smile.  “So who else could know this and put some into my bento?”

Gokudera proceeded to blush a little harder, and decided that staring at the door was far better than looking at his questioning friend.  “Y-you’re on something.  What would be the point of me doing that?  It’s stupid.”

“Were you trying to cheer me up?”

Shit!  Caught red-handed!  Why did Yamamoto have to be so perceptive?!  The silver-haired teen tried to seem imposing by glaring back at the taller teen, but was caught off guard by the look in Yamamoto’s eyes.  He looked touched.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” Yamamoto started, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.  He had a feeling that Gokudera had seen his exchange outside the window; it wouldn’t have been so hard to notice, after all.  “I know you haven’t eaten very well the last couple of days, so how about I give you the rest of the eel sushi I have?  I haven’t touched those yet.”

“Y-You don’t have to do that, you idiot,” Gokudera stuttered, also a little touched by Yamamoto’s generosity.

“Come on, I insist,” Yamamoto urged, not wanting his friend to go hungry.  He grabbed his chopsticks to start handing the eel over when he felt a hand grab his arm to stop him.

“Stop being a moron,” Gokudera asserted with a firm steady gaze, preparing himself for what he was about to say.  “Those were a g-gift, so just…take them and eat them.  I don’t want anything in return.”

“Gokudera…” Yamamoto whispered out in awe, amazed that Gokudera even admitted to doing something generous for him to make him feel better.   A million different emotions hit Yamamoto all at once then, almost leaving him breathless.  He hardly remembered a time when Gokudera had done something nice for him.  The dark-haired teen focused intently on the boy before him, light-hazel eyes boring into jade-green, wanting nothing more than to just reach out and touch the other boy’s cheek, to bring him into a gentle kiss, to tell him the feelings he had been keeping inside for such a long time.

The silver-haired teen’s breathe caught in his throat when Yamamoto’s eyes met his, the taller boy’s eyes dancing with so many different emotions that Gokudera couldn’t even begin to discern one from the other.  The older boy couldn’t help but be mesmerized, he never realized how beautiful Yamamoto’s eyes really were; he had always been so focused at keeping the younger boy at bay, afraid to let him in.  The second after that thought hit him, Gokudera came to realize that the feeling he had before, the one where he felt nauseous and intrigued at the same time, was coming back in full force, but, for some reason, couldn’t find it in himself to care as he felt a strong urge to lean forward.

Both teens were oblivious to their surroundings, lost in a moment they never expected to have as they leaned forward, eyes half-closing on instinct, not truly comprehending on what was transpiring, but not caring all the same.

Their lips were about an inch or so apart, their eyes almost completely closed, when they were brought out of their reverie by the loud buzzing of the washing machine they were sitting/leaning on.  Eyes opening wide in surprise at the sound and quickly catching on to what had almost just happened, both boy’s flew away from each other as if they were just punched in the face, Gokudera falling of the washer in the process.  Flustered and blushing furiously, both boys stuttered uselessly and looked anywhere but at each other; both not failing to notice the distinct giggling of the college girls in the background. 

Needing a distraction and fast, Gokudera proceeded to pick himself up of the floor and, placing Yamamoto’s bento box and their drinks on the next washing machine, opened the washer that had thankfully stopped him from doing— _stop thinking about that, stop thinking about that, stop thinking about that!_ Quickly grabbing his now wet clothes, Gokudera made his way over to the opposite wall towards the dryers, rudely cutting off the same old lady from before as he stole her drying machine, and tossed in all his clothes in one massive heap.

During this time, the blush wouldn’t leave Yamamoto’s face as he berated himself for doing something so stupid.  Would Gokudera hate him now?  Why did he have to get so emotional over something so small?  It was just sushi for crying out loud!

At the thought of sushi, Yamamoto’s head perked up.  He forgot that he was going to give Gokudera his eel sushi in exchange for the fatty tuna.  Thinking of it as a way of an apology, Yamamoto made himself busy as well, placing the eel sushi into Gokudera’s discarded bento that had fallen onto the floor with the teen (but thankfully hadn’t spilled everywhere) after their almost kiss.  At that thought, Yamamoto felt guilty for losing control over that situation and for also wishing it actually happened in the first place.

By this time, Gokudera was done putting his clothes in the dryer, and had started it up with a couple pieces of change.  He turned around to notice Yamamoto placing his eel sushi into his bento box, and couldn’t help the weird fluttering feeling it produced in his chest.  What the hell was happening to him?  Maybe he ate something weird? Yeah, that had to be it! Trying not to seem effected by what had almost transpired between them, Gokudera made his way back towards the washer, ignoring the weird looks people were giving him and a deathly glare from an old lady he didn’t recognize (what was eating her? Maybe she was a homophobe?).  Upon reaching the washing machine, the silver-haired teenager made himself busy with loading up the machine with a new set of clothes, completely emptying one of his duffel bags’ contents.

After placing all of his whites in the washer with an adequate amount of soap, and putting in the right amount of change, Gokudera prepared himself and peered over at his companion.  The taller boy was leaning against the neighboring washer, staring at his shoes and fiddling with his hands like he was unsure what to do with them.  If Gokudera wasn’t so distracted by…other things…he would have almost dared to say that the other teen was acting kind of…cute.  Erasing such thoughts from his mind before he could think too much of them (thinking of anything that concerned his dark-haired friend was now considered too dangerous for his mind to handle), the silver-haired teen cleared his throat, not knowing any other way to break the awkward silence that had befallen them.

Almost jumping in surprise at the sudden sound, Yamamoto turned to stare at Gokudera, who in turn was nervously looking away again.  Not sure on what to really do to appease the situation and get back on normal ground, Yamamoto did the only thing he could think of and handed Gokudera his lunch back, now with more eel sushi than before.

“You…didn’t have to give me these, you know,” Gokudera meekly replied as he took back his bento, still refusing to look at Yamamoto’s face.

“I-I know,” The dark-haired teen stuttered back, also not meeting the others’ eyes. “But I didn’t want you to go hungry so…”

“Idiot,” Gokudera stated almost affectionately, trying to return to his and Yamamoto’s normal routine.  Yamamoto was quick to catch onto this and replied with his usual demeanor, happy that his friend was quick to forgive and forget and not shun him for his actions. 

“Haha, I guess I am, but that doesn’t stop you from hanging out with me!”

Gokudera rolled his eyes as he returned to his usual perch on top of the washer, grabbing his un-touched iced coffee in the process.  “Whatever, let’s just finish these up.”

Returning to his place by the washer as well, Yamamoto made himself busy with his new fatty tuna.  That’s how both of the young mafia men continued with their lunch, both deciding to ignore what had transpired between them as if it had never happened.

Yamamoto couldn’t help but feel saddened at the thought.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, here's another chapter! This one was originally one chapter, but it was so long, I decided to partition it into two. I hope you like, and that you don't mind the angst!

 

Lunch was officially finished when Yamamoto chugged the contents of his un-touched milk bottle, draining all of the milk in one go.  Gokudera couldn’t help but be a little sickened at the sight; he was not a fan of milk.

“Ah, that was good!” Yamamoto exclaimed happily after his little task was done, wiping away the milk mustache that had formed because of it.  “Nothing beats a good glass of milk!”

Yamamoto’s silver-haired companion begged to differ.  “That was nasty.  How the hell can you even drink that stuff?”

The dark-haired athlete glanced at his secret crush in honest confusion. How could anyone find milk nasty?  “What do you mean, Gokudera?  Milk is good for you and gives you strong bones.  How can I not drink it?”

“Never mind,” the fiery teen puffed out irritably, too tired from the days past events to even bother trying to argue.  The young silver-haired boy couldn’t suppress the yawn that escaped from his mouth at the thought. He hadn’t gotten much sleep lately because of those recent all-night study sessions with the Tenth and Yamamoto for finals. 

Seeing the other boy yawn, Yamamoto came up with an idea.  “Hey, if you’re tired, you can go and rest for a bit, Gokudera.  I’ll watch the clothes.”

The said silver-haired teen gave Yamamoto his best ‘are-you-stupid?’ glare at the thought.  “We’re in a laundry mat, idiot.  Where the heck would you suggest I sleep?  Those benches aren’t the most comfortable, you know.”

Yamamoto gave an ‘ah’ at the reminder as he scanned the area in question and conveniently saw a solution.  “Well what do you know, one of the chairs are open.  You could probably sleep on that.”

Seeing the taller boy hitch his thumb over his shoulder, Gokudera followed its direction to see that one of the many armrest recliners that were scattered around in the waiting area was, indeed, vacant.  As much as he would have loved to sink into the comfy looking chair and catch-up with the sleep his body deserved, Gokudera had to abstain for one very obvious reason.

“Like hell I’d do that and leave you in charge of my stuff!  How do I know you’re not just going to go snooping through my bags again?!”

The black-haired teen scratched the back of his head sheepishly, a little embarrassed at the reminder of the underwear incident that happened a few hours prior.  “Ah, well I promise I won’t do that again, okay?  It looks like you really need some rest, so how about you steal that chair before someone else does?  There’s only one left.”

Gokudera narrowed his eyes suspiciously; he didn’t know what to expect from the taller teen anymore, heck, he didn’t know what to expect from himself when he was around the taller teen anymore!  “Look, I’ll rest up for a bit on one condition, and that’s if you wake me up when my clothes are done so I can put in another load; there should be about two loads left…”

Thinking the terms were easy ones to live by, Yamamoto agreed with a nod of his head and a reassuring smile.  “Sure thing, I’ll do that and also guard your other duffel bag so those creepy college girl’s in the back don’t get ideas and try to steal it again, haha!”

Almost forgetting about those stupid girls, Gokudera couldn’t help but shudder.  “Sounds good,” then, almost as an afterthought, the silver-haired teen added, “Oh, and make sure they don’t do anything to me in my sleep.  I’ll probably be too tired to wake up quickly if they try to do something funny.”

Seeing the look of apprehension on his friend’s face, not to mention the creepy and hungry stares they were receiving from the group of college girls who still hadn’t moved from their positions in the waiting area, Yamamoto didn’t even have to think to know his answer.

“No problem!  You can count on me!”

Relieved at the reassuring smile Yamamoto was giving him, Gokudera allowed himself to trust in his companion and made his way over to the still open recliner, unknowingly cutting off the little old lady from before again, who was just making her way towards the same chair to rest her tired, aching body.  She looked about ready to snap the silver-haired boy’s neck in half for his constant rudeness but decided against it when another seat made itself available; Gokudera never knew how close he had just escaped from imminent death.

Not really paying attention at that point, Yamamoto had made himself busy and gathered his and Gokudera’s now empty lunch items and placed them into the trash-bin near the dryers. Walking back to the washing machine after his little task, the taller boy was quick to notice that Gokudera had made himself comfortable in his chair in the back corner and had immediately dosed off.  The younger teen couldn’t help noticing how innocent his companion looked when he slept; the complete opposite of his usual fiery and explosive demeanor. 

Yamamoto smiled to himself as he leaned against the washer, his eyes softening as he watched the other boy sleep from across the room.  Gokudera really was beautiful, especially when he was asleep and wasn’t so tense and agitated like he was when they were caught up in mafia business.  Even then, Yamamoto still thought that the Italian teen was beautiful, his actions and very presence dangerously alluring to the taller teen, despite his better judgment telling him to stay away.  Yamamoto couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to wake up to such a pretty face lying beside him everyday—his thoughts quickly cut off there, though, not wanting to go back into such depressing territory.  Yamamoto would probably never know what that was like, especially if that breath taking face belonged to a certain Gokudera Hayato. If their almost-kiss and the silver-haired teen’s reaction was anything to go by, it was obvious that his friend wasn’t interested, and was probably terrified and disgusted at the very thought of it.

Yamamoto didn’t know how long he had stared forlornly at his silver-haired companion but, the next thing he knew, he was looking away and outside the laundry mat window, his eyes catching someone familiar walking by outside.  It just so happened, in that moment, that the familiar person glanced in his direction at the exact same time as well, their eyes widening in surprise and anger through the laundry mat window.

Well crap, this wasn’t good.

In the next instant, the familiar person that Yamamoto had recognized had stormed her way into the laundry mat, a girl who Yamamoto didn’t know following close behind her in confusion.  The familiar girl had short, cropped, brown hair that framed her face, while her friend had long, shiny, black locks.  The brown-haired girl made her way up to Yamamoto in seconds, which wasn’t that much of an accomplishment, since he was only a few feet from the door anyway, but that didn’t make it less intimidating.  Of course, Yamamoto had been intimidated by far worse things in his life, so he wasn’t exactly worried; Gokudera was far scarier.

“Ah, Airi-chan! What a pleasant surprise meeting you here!” Yamamoto faked enthusiasm, completely caught off-guard by the chances of this scenario actually happening. Airi-chan didn’t seem to be the least bit amused.

“Yamamoto-san, what on earth are you doing here?” The younger girl started incredulously, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion and her voice sounding hurt.  “You said something important came up and you had to cancel our date again.  Was **_this_** the important thing? Doing your **_laundry_**?!”

Another wave of guilt hit Yamamoto hard as Airi’s voice wavered near the end of her question, her innocent eye’s pleading for an explanation as to why he would choose laundry over her. 

“It’s not my laundry,” Yamamoto started to explain, hoping Airi would accept his excuse better than her older brother.  “I’m helping a friend with his.”

This, of course, wasn’t the right thing to say as Airi’s black-haired friend made her way up beside the duo and added her own thoughts on the matter.  “Like that’s any better!”  She replied scathingly.  “If you didn’t want to date Airi-chan then you should have just said so.  But no, you had to lead her on for a while and make her think she wasn’t good enough for your time!”

“No, no, it’s not like that!” Yamamoto stated defensively, bringing his hands up to try and placate the upset girls.  “Gokudera really needed my help.  His washing machine broke down, so he had to come here.  He also lives about a mile or so away and didn’t have enough money for bus fare, so he had to walk instead.  I saw him struggling with all the stuff he was carrying, so I offered to help him.”

Airi’s once upset and confused face instantly became angry and dangerous at the sound of the Italian’s name.  “Gokudera?  Isn’t he that delinquent boy that always hangs around you and that short, brown-haired kid?  I always see them when I’m watching my brother at baseball practice and he’s always whining about having to be there to wait for you.  You would actually help someone like that?”

“Not only that,” Airi’s black-haired friend chimed back in, adding fuel to the fire.  “Yamamoto-san’s been ditching you to help that jerk all the time!”

“Hey!” Yamamoto exclaimed, restraining himself from getting too upset, but quickly coming to the aid of his silver-haired friend all the same.  “I know Gokudera might come off as a bad person but he really isn’t that bad.  You just need to try and understand him.”

The two girls stared at Yamamoto un-phased, not liking the idea of trying to get to know the dangerously explosive teen.  They had heard some weird stories…

“Look, it doesn’t matter anymore,” Yamamoto explained after he calmed himself down a bit, putting on his best apologetic smile.  Why did he always have to be so protective of the feisty bomber? “I’m sorry that this has been happening whenever we try to meet up, it’s all a coincidence, I swear.” Yamamoto knew this was mostly true, but that still didn’t make it any better that he had hurt someone else’s feelings because of his own selfishness.  “I try to avoid making people upset, but when my friends need help, I try to put them first.  You two can understand that, right?”

The two girls glanced at each other, their eyes becoming sympathetic as they began to understand what the taller boy was getting at.  Airi knew that she would put her friends first over someone else she didn’t know that well.  “So does this mean…” Airi asked tentatively, scrutinizing the handsome upperclassmen before her. “…does this mean that you would still be willing to try meeting up with me sometime?”

Yamamoto blinked in surprise, a little taken back by the question that he hadn’t even begun to think about.   He thought the call from Airi’s brother had been the final straw in settling **_that_** particular matter (he was sure Daichi-senpai didn’t want him around his little sister anymore). Even though his answer should have been obvious, Yamamoto couldn’t stop the nagging thoughts in the back of his mind. Would going out with Airi be so bad?  It wasn’t like the secret feelings he held for Gokudera were going anywhere; Yamamoto knew that the smaller boy would never see him in the same way, and that he was just hurting himself by harboring these feelings he shouldn’t have had in the first place.

Dispelling his doubts, the black-haired teen glanced over towards the corner where Gokudera was still sleeping soundly, the taller boy’s eyes saddening as he thought of what to do next; what he **_had_** to do next for the sake of his own sanity. 

He had to try to let Gokudera go.

Smiling as best as he could, even though it felt like his very soul was ripping in half, Yamamoto gave his answer, “Sure, I would love that.”

Airi’s eyes lit up in excitement, not catching the apparent heart-ache her crush was going through or the life changing decision he had just made. 

Yamamoto, meanwhile, was trying to console himself by thinking that maybe he could learn to care for Airi.  She was a very nice girl after all, and she loved baseball, so how bad could she be?  Besides, she was a **_girl_** , and dating a girl was healthy and normal by society standards.

Airi’s friend, on the other hand, seemed a bit skeptical about trusting a guy who had  ditched her best-friend five times in a row, and was about to state her claims when two, very loud buzzers went off, cutting off her train of thought.

At the sound of the buzzers, Yamamoto peered over his shoulder to notice that the washer and dryer that Gokudera was using were done doing their duties.  He quickly glanced back towards the corner where his secret crush continued to sleep peacefully, completely oblivious to his surroundings.  Unable to bring himself to keep his promise and wake up the smaller teen when it seemed he was sleeping so well (and the small fact that Yamamoto wasn’t ready to face the teen after making his decision to give up on him), Yamamoto thought of ways he could continue to help Gokudera with his errand without waking him up. 

The taller boy’s eyes lit up as an idea dawned on him.  There was one way that he could still keep his promise to help Gokudera with his laundry without having to wake him up from his comfortable nap but it probably wouldn’t go over well.

Throwing caution to the wind, Yamamoto glanced back down at the girls who had started a heated discussion when he wasn’t paying attention.  Yamamoto caught their attention by clearing his throat a little.  “Hey, um, Airi-chan, do you know how to do laundry?”

Both Airi and her black-haired friend blinked in confusion at the random question, forgetting whatever argument they were having (Yamamoto thought he heard “You can’t trust him!” from the black-haired girl, but he wasn’t too sure).  “Um…yes?” Airi answered uncertainly, wondering where Yamamoto was going with this.

The taller boy smiled sheepishly in response, prepared for the worst.  “Do you think you could help me with Gokudera’s laundry?”

An awkward silence filled the room, both of the girls staring incredulously at the taller boy like he had just asked them to jump onto the washers and do the Macarena.

“…are you kidding me?” Airi asked defensively.  Was that supposed to be a joke?  Why would she want to help that jerk, Gokudera?  Airi’s friend backed her up by glaring questioningly at the taller boy, demanding an answer.

“Um...no?”  Yamamoto answered uncertainly this time, hoping that the two girls would change their minds and help him.  Seeing as that probably wouldn’t be the case, Yamamoto quickly thought of an idea.  “Okay, how about this?  Since you’re here and all, why don’t we hang out together?  That way we can get to know each other better and I don’t have to back out on my friend if you help me.  It’s a win-win situation, don’t you think?”

Yamamoto stared down at Airi imploringly.  He wasn’t sure how Gokudera would handle the girl when he woke up and found her messing with his things, but by doing this, Yamamoto could still help Gokudera and see if he could actually learn to like someone else. 

“Oh,” the taller boy added as an afterthought.  “Your friend doesn’t have to stay if she doesn’t want to either, but I wouldn’t mind her help all the same.”  

The two younger girls stared at each other with uncertainty, both not really liking the idea if it included helping the delinquent but not wanting to turn down someone asking kindly for their help.

Seeing as the girls were having trouble coming up with a decision, Yamamoto came up with another incentive for them to stay.  “Um, if you girls help me then maybe I can go and buy us some ice cream to eat as a thank you?  It’s pretty warm outside now, since it’s the middle of the afternoon, and I saw the building just down the street from here. I can get us some really quick.”  

At the sound of him treating them to deliciously cold ice cream, the two girls begrudging accepted. This made Yamamoto smile in victory. The mafia game had taught him well; bribing **_was_** a very effective tactic. 

“Thanks girls!  So what do we do first?” Yamamoto said with some enthusiasm, a little excited that he might be able to learn something that could be helpful in the future.  Maybe he could even help Gokudera with his laundry more—oh wait; he wasn’t supposed to think like that anymore now that he was with Airi-chan.  The taller boy tried to not let the reminder crush him as he thought of how these moments he would spend with Gokudera would gradually lessen as he tried to forget about his feelings for the silver-haired teen.

His dampening mood went unnoticed by the two girls, who were explaining to him on what to do for the next load.  Having sucked out his own enthusiasm, Yamamoto hardly paid attention, tossing all of Gokudera’s dark clothes (mindfully ignoring the red boxers with the fireworks printed on them; Yamamoto swore they were mocking him) back into the duffel bag without folding them.  Once the girl’s realized that Yamamoto wasn’t exactly listening to them anymore, they took matters into their own hands, emptying the washing machine and tossing Gokudera’s white clothes into the now empty dryer.  From there, Airi took all of Gokudera’s jeans from the second duffel bag and placed those in the washer and poured in some soap.  After both deeds were done, with Yamamoto watching on with a sad sheepish smile, the girls gave Yamamoto inquiring glances.

“So,” The black-haired girl muttered disapprovingly, raising an eyebrow in question.  “Do you have change to start these things or do we also have to pay for them as well as do all the work?”

Yamamoto’s eyes widened upon realization, almost forgetting about the money. 

“Oh, I almost forgot about that!” Yamamoto laughed nervously, wondering why he had to forget about such an important step.  “I don’t have any change but Gokudera’s carrying some...”

 The girls looked slightly annoyed at that.

“So how are we supposed to get the change without waking him up?” Airi questioned delicately.  “I’m assuming since you wanted us to help you that you also didn’t want to wake that guy up, right?”

It was here that Yamamoto remembered exactly where Gokudera was holding his change.

There was a loud smacking sound as the taller boy slapped himself in the forehead, berating himself for forgetting about the change being in, of all places, Gokudera’s **_pants pockets_**.  Since he didn’t want to wake the smaller boy up, Yamamoto knew he had no choice but to dig through Gokudera’s pockets just to get to them.  

“Shit.”

The girls’ eyes widened at Yamamoto’s not so subtle curse, watching as the taller boy put his game face on.  Yamamoto really had to prepare himself for what he was about to do.  There was a high probability that, one, being physically close to the unconscious teen while he was trying to forget about his feelings for him was going to be absolute torture and, two, Gokudera would probably wake up while Yamamoto was searching through his pockets.  Both options were mentally taxing and physically harmful. 

“You girl’s stay here, I’ll go and get the change.”

Yamamoto’s voice left no room for arguments (the girls weren’t exactly clambering for his position anyway) as he marched towards the corner where Gokudera was sleeping, his face set in determination.  Before he could reach his destination, though, Yamamoto had to glare at the college girls in the waiting area because they had started making their way over to the sleeping teen as well, having small giggling fits along the way.  The college girl’s didn’t notice Yamamoto until he cut them off half way, giving each and every one of them pointed death glares if they so much as touched a hair on his friend’s head.  Quickly picking up on the ominous vibes from the usually happy teen, the college girls ran back to their seats and grabbed their laundry baskets, previous tasks forgotten and frightened into finally doing what they had come to do in the first place. 

Sighing in slight relief that one of the obstacles was taken care of, Yamamoto finally arrived at his destination—

He did **_not_** want to do this.

The taller teen couldn’t help but think that as he looked down on the sleeping form of his friend.  If he thought Gokudera was beautiful before when he was watching him from across the room then he was downright breathtaking now.  In fact, Yamamoto **_was_** holding his breath; he just wasn’t sure if it was from the Italians beauty or from the fact that he was too scared to breath just in case it actually woke the deadly bomber up.  What Yamamoto was doing now was probably the equivalent of walking into a hibernating bear’s cave and poking said bear with a rather sharp stick; either way, it was a highly dangerous situation.

Trying to breathe as softly as he could so as not to disturb his sleeping friend, Yamamoto leaned downwards, putting one of his hands on the top of the chair for support as he maneuvered the other hand into one of the sleeping teen’s pants pockets without jostling him.  Yamamoto tried very hard not to think of how his hand was rubbing up against the side of Gokudera’s hip as he delved his hand deeper into the pocket in search for change. 

He was so close to the other boy it was hard to concentrate.  Yamamoto’s face was beside the sleeping teens’; he could smell the shampoo Gokudera used for his hair, he could see the other’s lips slightly parted, begging Yamamoto to tilt his head so he could get a taste of the delicately forbidden fruit.  It was absolute **_torture_**.

Yamamoto didn’t know how he did it but, once he felt his hand close over the familiar smooth texture of coins, he quickly grabbed a handful, tore his hand out of Gokudera’s pocket, and jumped away from the still dozing teen as if he had been burned.  Luckily for him, he hadn’t woken the other teen up in the process. 

With his task now complete, Yamamoto quickly made his way over to the two waiting girls and handed over the change, looking rather flushed and worse for wear.  Forgetting his feelings for Gokudera was going to be **_a lot_** harder than he had thought.

Feeling a little concerned for the taller boy, Airi and her friend took the offered change and started up the waiting washer and dryer.  They both didn’t understand why Yamamoto looked so haggard, like he had just run a mile without any rest stops in between.  As they made their way back to the black-haired teen (who was busying himself by staring out the window alongside the wall and shuffling his feet awkwardly like he wanted to run), Airi couldn’t help but ask, “Are you alright, Yamamoto-san?”

The taller teen jumped in surprise at the brunette’s voice.  Looking rather sheepish and a bit uncomfortable, Yamamoto explained, “Ah, yeah, I’m alright Airi-chan.  I just remembered that I’ve been in here all morning and haven’t gone out much, so I feel a little cooped up, haha!”

The two girls exchanged looks of uncertainly, not sure if they bought what the older teen was saying; the laughter in his voice sounding too strained to be taken seriously. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Airi asked again, her voice heavy with concern.  She didn’t know Yamamoto that well, but she knew he was a calm and confident guy, so to see him act this way was a little weird.

“Yep, I’m absolutely fine!” Yamamoto lied with a smile.  The dark-haired athlete decided it was best to change the subject before he got even more uncomfortable; he was beginning to feel suffocated.  “So how about that ice cream?  What flavors did you girls want?”

Taken back by the question, but remembering their deal, the girls rambled off their orders to the taller teen who seemed awfully eager to leave the premises.  In fact, Yamamoto practically bolted out the door with a promise to ‘be back quick’, making his way down the side walk towards the ice cream parlor with hurried steps.

The two girls blinked in amazement at the quick departure then just as quickly glared over towards the corner where Gokudera continued to sleep, completely oblivious to everything that had just transpired.  Airi’s black-haired friend narrowed her eyes suspiciously.  “What kind of hold does that delinquent have on Yamamoto-san?  Do guys normally act this way around their friends?”

Airi continued to stare at the sleeping silver-haired form, her eyes filled with perplexity as she tried to figure the sleeping teen and his taller friend out.  “I don’t know, but something tells me that if we stay here longer, we’ll be able to find that out.”

The black-haired girl looked a little uncomfortable at the idea, but upon seeing the determination written all over her friend’s face, she couldn’t object.  Airi had been crushing on Yamamoto for awhile now, so there was no way she was throwing away the chance to get to know him better.  The least the black-haired girl could do was stay and support her friend.

“This time,” Airi spoke with dangerous determination.  “We’ll see if that **_boy_** is the one worthy of Yamamoto-san’s time.”

\-----

After leaving the laundry mat and standing in line for ice cream, Yamamoto had enough time to calm himself down.  He knew he had to stop letting his feelings for Gokudera get to him but the young athlete was beginning to think it was impossible.  He was so tuned into the feisty Italian, and so used to the other’s presence that it was hard to not think about him.  It also didn’t really help matters much when he was purchasing three ice creams for the girls and himself and not anything for the sleeping bomber.  The guilt was starting to get to him. 

 _“It would melt by the time Gokudera woke up anyway, so it would be a waste of time, right?”_ Yamamoto told himself over and over again, trying to reason with himself so that the guilt would stop suffocating him.

By the time he made it back to the laundry mat, Yamamoto had calmed down to a point where he didn’t feel like he had to run as far away from the store as possible.  Taking that as a good sign, the tall athlete re-entered the store and smiled at the two girls who had waited patiently for him, handing over their respective ice creams and spoons.  The three of them then proceeded to nibble awkwardly on their frozen treats, not really sure on what to say to each other.

Not liking the silence, Airi broke the ice by talking about something that she knew all three of them could actually talk about; baseball.  Airi’s black-haired friend looked relieved at the subject, and Yamamoto dove right into the conversation with complete enthusiasm.  It wasn’t long until all three were stating their favorite players and what teams were doing well that year, laughing and joking companionably as they continued to eat their ice creams.

\-------

Out of all the noises around him that he could have woken up to, Gokudera woke to the sound of Yamamoto’s laughter.

At first, the older teen was annoyed by this, not liking that his peaceful slumber was broken by the familiar noise.  That laugh never failed to make him tired, and it grated on his nerves, but the teen couldn’t help but think that the laugh was also soothing in its own way, too.  Gokudera would never admit this to anyone but he actually did like hearing his taller friend laugh, even though it was annoying most of the time.  It was funny when Gokudera thought about it; how the one thing that got on his nerves always seemed to calm those same nerves down, especially when he was having a tiring and strenuous day.  The small Italian couldn’t help the sleepy smile that spread across his face at the thought as Yamamoto continued to laugh about God-knows-what. Gokudera kept his eyes closed and enjoyed the sound to its fullest.

That is, until he wondered why the baseball-idiot would be laughing in the first place.

Usually, this wouldn’t bother him. Yamamoto tended to laugh at everything, but knowing that he had left the tall rain guardian in the store with nothing to do, Gokudera couldn’t help but feel a little apprehensive at the thought of what the young athlete could be up to if he was left unattended. Horrifying scenario after horrifying scenario played without pause in his head at the thought. 

His fear and curiosity eventually getting the better of him, Gokudera groggily opened his eyes and tilted his head in the direction of the laughing voice to be quickly blessed with the image of Yamamoto talking with two other girls.  The fiery Italian blinked a couple times to get the sleep out of his eyes, his tired brain trying to understand the image in front of him.

“ _Yamamoto+ two girls+ three cups of ice cream =???_ ”

Gokudera blinked in confusion as he tried to figure out what was going on. Why would Yamamoto be talking and eating ice cream with these girls he didn’t recognize? It wasn’t long before the young genius’s mind immediately shifted into high gear as it was bombarded with questions: 1) _Who the hell where those girls?_ 2) _Why the hell was the brown-haired girl sitting on top of the washer?  That was **his** spot, damn it!_ 3) _Why the hell were they all eating ice cream?_ And 4) _Wait! Where the **fuck** was **his** ice cream?!_

As Gokudera continued to watch, he quickly came to find out that Yamamoto and the girls were talking about baseball.  This wasn’t so hard to figure out on the Italian’s part, because Yamamoto just so happened to be re-enacting a baseball moment **_at_** that very moment.  He was going into a batters crouch and using his ice cream spoon as a bat, not failing to look completely and utterly ridiculous to Gokudera and probably everyone else in the store in the process. 

After the silly action was done and Yamamoto had embarrassed himself enough, Gokudera didn’t fail to notice how the dark-haired teen leaned back onto the washer, his body awfully close to the girl sitting on top of it. The young Italian also noticed how the taller boy looked completely **_enraptured_** with the brown-haired girl as she rambled on about stupid baseball statistics and other useless baseball trivia that no one should honestly care about.

Gokudera couldn’t stop the weird pang he felt in his chest at the sight.  It wasn’t too long ago that he was the one sitting on top of that washer with Yamamoto standing so close to him.  The young Italian couldn’t help but feel like he had just been replaced.

The silver-haired teen almost blanched at that thought.  He was being silly.  Why should he care that Yamamoto was talking to a girl and standing so close, no, **_painfully_** close to her, and why was it suddenly so hard to breathe?!

Gokudera tried his best to calm down but, being able to see the happy little scene unfold before him, Yamamoto and the two girls laughing like they’ve known each other all their lives, continued to worsen his mood.  He felt forgotten, replaced, betrayed, and so many other different emotions that he couldn’t put his finger on that it was beginning to piss him off! Gokudera didn’t understand what was going on. He didn’t understand why so many emotions were bombarding him all at once, and he **_didn’t_** understand why he was feeling this way in the **_first place._**

Not knowing how to deal with such raw emotions coursing through him, Gokudera did the only thing he could think of; going straight to the source of these emotions and putting a stop to them. 

With that, Gokudera stood up and marched his way over towards a laughing and oblivious Yamamoto.

\-------

It didn’t take long for Gokudera to make his way across the room.  It also, much to his character, didn’t take him long to get straight to the point.

“Who the hell are you two?!” The young Italian practically shouted in the two girl’s faces, directing more of his anger towards the small brunette sitting on top of the washer (she was still sitting in **_his_** spot, damn it!).  His outburst grabbed the attention of every person in the laundry mat, who were now looking at the group of four with scared but curious eyes.

Yamamoto and the girls had noticed the fiery bomber’s approach due to said bomber’s aggressively loud footsteps, but that still didn’t prepare them for the silver-haired teen’s rude question or the feral animosity that seemed to palpitate from every pore on the teen’s body.

“Gokudera…” Yamamoto started, trying to calm the aggressive teen down.  The said teen whipped around lightning-quick to direct his fiery glare towards the taller teen.

“You stay the hell out of this!” The Italian teen threatened, not willing to deal with the idiot yet when there were more pressing issues to deal with first.  Speaking of pressing issues, Gokudera looked away from Yamamoto to glare at the girl on top of the washer again.  “Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?!”  He questioned venomously.

At first, Airi was frozen in shock and fear at the Italian delinquents questions.  No one had ever approached her in such a way nor had she ever had anyone talk to her so rudely before.  It didn’t take long for all of her fear to quickly change into self-righteous anger.  What was this guy’s deal?  “I’m Takaki Airi and I’m here visiting Yamamoto-san.  Is that a problem for you?!”

“Don’t even bother with him Airi-chan!” Airi’s black-haired friend interrupted, her face the perfect picture of disgust.  “If he’s going to be so rude about it then the jerk doesn’t need to know!”

“What the hell did you say?!”  Gokudera exclaimed as he directed his murderous glare towards the black-haired girl.  The two glowered at each other spitefully.  Gokudera was kind of lost on what to do, he never expected a younger girl to verbally lash back at him.  It seemed the universe had finally found Gokudera’s match for Namimori’s bitchiest citizen (Gokudera’s landlord came in as a runner up).

“You heard me,” the black-haired girl snidely answered back.  “Why are you so ticked off anyway?  Yamamoto-san just invited us to stay and help. I don’t see a problem!”

Shocked at this bit of information, Gokudera twisted around to stare at the taller teen, his jade-green eyes demanding an answer.  “What the hell is this girl talking about?!  Help with what?!”        

The young athlete looked extremely uncomfortable as the question was directed towards him.  He tried to look Gokudera in the eyes but couldn’t keep his gaze directly; the Italians eyes were inflamed with so much anger and…hurt?  Was that the right emotion?  Yamamoto was too afraid to double check.  “Look, Gokudera, Airi-chan and her friend saw me in here and came in to talk when you were asleep.  Then the buzzers for the clothes went off and I didn’t want to wake you up because you looked so comfortable, so I asked the girls for help—”

“Wait!  They did my laundry?!”  Gokudera exclaimed as he cut Yamamoto off, looking completely affronted by the idea.  “I thought I told you to wake me up?  How in the hell do you know if they did things right?!”

The black-haired girl was quick to chime in again.  “Chill already! Airi and I know how to do laundry; we only put your whites in the dryer and your jeans in the washer.  Oh yeah, and Yamamoto-san stuffed all your darks into a duffel bag.”

Gokudera glared at Yamamoto again who appeared to be panicking at that last bit of information.  The young Italian was quick to assume that his darks were probably all wrinkled now due to Yamamoto’s inability to do anything remotely constructive.  Diverting his attention so he wouldn’t publically strangle the idiot, Gokudera asked another question that had been bothering him. 

“So what the heck is with the ice cream?”  The Italian questioned in a calmer manner, although his glare was still stabbing the three people around him with metaphorical daggers.  He motioned with his head towards the ice cream cups that were now placed on top of the washer next to Airi, all of them seeming to now be empty upon closer inspection. 

Seeing as Yamamoto looked like he was having an internal struggle with himself (the taller boy’s eyes were diverted away from everyone else, like he was either scared or ashamed), Airi decided to answer the question.  “For helping him with your laundry, he offered to buy us ice creams and to stay and chat with him,” she explained as civilized as she could. Given the circumstances that a boy she didn’t know was chewing her head off for reasons she didn’t know, she thought she was doing a pretty good job.

Airi’s answer and attitude caught the attention of her black-haired friend, who felt prompted to speak again just because she seemed to like hearing herself talk (that’s what Gokudera thought anyway).  “Yeah, it was the least Yamamoto-san could do after he ditched Airi so many times for you!”

Gokudera’s body went rigid at the younger girl’s words.  This was the girl Yamamoto had ditched earlier in the day? And wait! Did that bitchy-girl just say what he thought she just said?  Gokudera trained his questioning eyes onto the taller boy beside him, who was still refusing to meet everyone’s gaze.

“This girl…you ditched her more than once?”  Gokudera asked quietly, he didn’t add the ‘for me’ part, because it seemed to get stuck in his throat.  What was going on with him today?  His emotions felt like they were riding a rollercoaster with too many loops. 

At this, Yamamoto finally seemed to be able to look Gokudera in the eyes.  The young Italian couldn’t help but think the taller boy looked burdened and heavyhearted.

“Um, yeah…” Yamamoto started with a sad smile as he rubbed the back of his neck distractedly.  “Whenever my senpai scheduled me to meet up with her, you always seemed to be having trouble with something, so I would help you in the end instead of going to meet her.  It felt kind of wrong to send her away again after she came in to talk to me, you know?  I kind of owed Airi-chan for all the things I put her through, so I asked her to stay.”

As Gokudera took in this information, his brain couldn’t help but pinpoint one small detail.  This was the second time Yamamoto had called that Takaki-girl, ‘Airi-chan’. 

“A-Airi-chan?” Gokudera peered up at Yamamoto in confusion, even though he had a feeling as to why Yamamoto was calling this girl by a first name basis; he just wished beyond hope it wasn’t true.

The taller boy did his best to smile, even though it felt completely wrong.  He shouldn’t be smiling and he shouldn’t be explaining this to Gokudera, but it’s not like the older boy would care, right?  “Yeah, that’s what Airi-chan wants me to call her, haha!  It can’t be helped really, since she’s my girlfriend now.”

Gokudera felt like he got smacked in the face.   ** _Girlfriend?_**   He…a-and she—they were—

This seemed to be news to more than just the flabbergasted Italian as Airi glanced towards Yamamoto with hope in her eyes.  “Really, Yamamoto-san?!  You think of me as your girlfriend now?!”

Yamamoto looked a little uncomfortable as he replied to the enthusiastic girl.  “Well, we are planning to meet up again.  Boys and girls who hang out together are usually considered boyfriend and girlfriend, right?”

Airi was the description of ecstatic. She was jittering in excitement on her seat on the washer and holding her hands together in anticipation, her eyes practically bugging out of her head.  “I would love to be your girlfriend, Yamamoto-san—Oh! Does this mean I can call you Takeshi-kun now?”

Gokudera had the distinct feeling he was going to vomit soon as a wave of distress hit him on top of his shock; the Italian completely missing the wince Yamamoto gave at the over familiarized version of his name.  The silver-haired teen felt like he was being crushed or split in two or…or…something that involved physical pain!  He didn’t know how to describe it nor did he understand it.  All he knew was that it felt like every single part of him hurt, and he didn’t know whether he should be upset or angry about it.

In the silence that seemed to follow the conversation, Gokudera was finally able to find his voice.  The Italian teen averted his eyes, his silver bangs hiding them from view as his body decided things for him and shook with tightly suppressed anger.  The silver-haired teen gathered all his strength and stated the word that adequately described what he wanted Yamamoto to do at that very moment.

“Leave.”

Yamamoto had been discussing with Airi on what she was allowed to call him, so he almost missed what his smaller friend had said.  The taller teen froze in shock, not sure if he heard correctly. 

“W-What?”  He asked hesitantly, afraid that the word he had heard was actually correct.

“ ** _Leave_** ,” Gokudera replied with a little more force.  He still wasn’t looking at anybody, and his body was shaking harder now, his hands clenched tightly into fists and his knuckles turning a ghostly white.

“L-Leave…?” Yamamoto repeated, is voice barely above a whisper.  The taller boy looked completely shocked at what the smaller boy was asking of him, no, **_demanding_** of him.  The two girls looked on in stunned silence, glancing between the two males in complete confusion.

Yamamoto’s stupid questioning voice seemed to be the trigger that made Gokudera snap.  Like an erupting volcano, he brought his head up to glare at Yamamoto, eyes clearly upset and blazing with fury.  “Yes, leave!  Are you too fucking stupid to comprehend that?!  This isn’t a place to have a freaking date, so how about you take your stupid fucking girlfriend and leave already?!”—The girls yelled indignantly at that remark but Gokudera continued on like he hadn’t heard them. “You’re stupid and useless and I don’t need you here, so **_leave_**!” 

Yamamoto was completely overwhelmed by the Italian’s outburst.  All he could do was stare, light-brown eyes wide with confusion as Gokudera’s anger and hurt filled eyes continued to bore spitefully into him.  Why was Gokudera so upset over all of this?  So he let the girls touch his laundry and he gave them ice cream, that didn’t mean the silver-haired boy had to throw a tantrum! Was it because he called Airi-chan his girlfriend?  Gokudera had started acting weird (more so than by **_normal_** standards anyway) after that little comment…

Before Yamamoto could think any more on the subject and of how thinking of Airi as his girlfriend still sounded wrong to him, the very same brown-haired girl jumped down from her seat on the washing machine, her eyes narrowing angrily as her hands went to her hips.

“What is wrong with you?!”  The younger girl all but shouted at the enraged Italian in front of her, her friend backing her up with an indignant ‘yeah!’.  “Takeshi-kun has done so much to help you and this is how you repay his kindness?  By insulting him?!  I think you should thank him at least after all he’s done!”

Yamamoto didn’t know how it was possible, but the intensity of Gokudera’s glare went up a notch at Airi’s words, his eyes becoming the very definition of hell’s fire.  “This isn’t any of your fucking business!”  The hot-headed teen snarled in fury as his hand instinctively reached out and clasped the brown-haired girl’s shoulder in a vice-like grip.

Airi squeaked in fright at the violent action, wincing in pain as the sudden pressure enveloped her shoulder.  She could hear her friend exclaim something in worry but she couldn’t discern what was being said; she was too focused on the raging green eyes before her that looked about ready to blow her head off.  Thankfully, she didn’t have to stare or feel the pain for too long because, not a second later, a tanned hand had reached out and ripped Gokudera’s hand from her shoulder.  The second she knew she was free, Airi ran towards her friend, who was waiting on the other side of the washing machine, putting as much distance between her and her attacker as she could within the crowded confines of the laundry mat. As she turned around to glimpse at her savior, she noticed that Yamamoto, unsurprisingly, had been the one to help her out.  He was standing where she used to be, holding Gokudera’s wrist in his hand from where he had taken it from her shoulder.  Both boys looked tense as they stared each other down, Yamamoto still refusing to let go of Gokudera’s wrist and giving the Italian a serious but pleading look, and the smaller teen looking completely surprised but still holding onto his anger. 

Eventually, Gokudera freed his wrist from Yamamoto’s grasp with a mighty tug.  The silver-haired teen turned away from his taller friend, rubbing his wrist in slight agitation.  He hadn’t meant to lash out at the girl; he had no idea what had come over him.  The young Italian also couldn’t stand looking at Yamamoto anymore.  He could tell the taller teen was angry and disappointed with him (believe him, that was an accomplishment if he received it from Yamamoto of all people), hell, he was upset with himself, too.  He must have looked completely ridiculous, acting like some jealous—

Wait… ** _jealous_**?!

Suddenly, as that one word rung repeatedly in his head, everything seemed to click, and Gokudera was able to understand what exactly he had been failing to comprehend up until then, to finally understand the emotions he had been feeling all day long.  **_He_** was an idiot. He was so **_stupid_** to have not seen it before.  The young teen would have laughed at his revelation but it was impossible at that moment (he knew it would have come out hysterical anyway and would have scared the living crap out of everyone, including himself).  He felt like he was choking, like something large was stuck in his throat and it wouldn’t dislodge even when he tried to swallow.

He was a freaking **_idiot_**!

Still unable to look at the dark-haired teen standing behind him, Gokudera prepared himself for what he was about to say.  The silver-haired teen looked subdued and utterly defeated, his shoulders hanging low and his head bowed as he opened up his mouth to say what was really on his mind. 

Only for those words to chicken out on him at the last minute and replace themselves with, “Leave, Yamamoto.  Just…just leave.”

Yamamoto’s breath caught in his throat at the despairing tremor in Gokudera’s voice.  Hating how grief stricken and dejected the other boy sounded, Yamamoto tried to speak, his hand reflexively reaching out to the other teen to comfort him.  Before he could do so, Gokudera twisted around and fixed Yamamoto with a sorrowful glare, seemingly knowing what the taller teen had been trying to do.

“You are so **_stupid_**.  I told you to go!  I never wanted you here in the first place!  I never wanted **_any_** of your help!” The heartbroken Italian lashed out, putting as much emphasis on the ‘any’ as he could.  It was true that he never had wanted Yamamoto to help him with anything from the very first time the other boy offered when they were still in middle school.  If the taller boy had just stayed away like Gokudera wanted him to, none of this would have happened.  He wouldn’t have befriended Yamamoto.

He wouldn’t have fallen in love with him either.

Even though Yamamoto was known to be slow when he had to think about things other than baseball, that didn’t mean he was stupid.  He was quick to catch on to what Gokudera had truly meant by his words.  Gokudera had never wanted to be around him in the first place.  To say those words stung would have been an understatement.  Yamamoto couldn’t hide the hurt that spread so openly over his face for everyone to see, including the person who had said those very hateful words. 

Deciding it was best to look away before he did something he would regret, like grabbing hold of Gokudera and begging the other to make him understand what was going on and making a complete fool of himself in the process, Yamamoto just nodded his assent and traveled towards the door.  Airi and her friend had continued to stare at the two boys in confusion, but when Yamamoto made for the door, the two were quick to follow, not wanting to stay in the Italian bomber’s presence a moment longer.

The tinkling of the bells above the door signaled the trio’s departure along with the prospects for a potentially happy future that Gokudera had never considered possible for him.

The Italian hated himself for throwing it so carelessly away.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, this chapter is a little shorter than my previous ones, and that's because this was originally part of chapter three. Like I said in the last chapter, I decided to split chapter 3 into two sections, so that's why this one is shorter lol. Anyway, despite how it might sound like by the end of this chapter, the story isn't over yet. There is still one more chapter to go that I won't be able to upload until next week =) Other than that, besides the slight editing changes I made from my fanfiction account version of this story, I also left out my mentioning of my Yamamoto and Gokudera sims I made. If someone wants to read about them, then you guys can go to my fanfiction account and look at the end of this chapter for the story. I just thought it would make this chapter look really weird if I had a second authors note at the end here that was just talking about something completely different XD With that, I hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

He was a full two blocks away before Yamamoto stopped and looked back towards the direction of the store where he left Gokudera, thinking about everything that had transpired between him and the smoking bomber and the words they had exchanged.  Airi and her friend, who were walking ahead of him at this point and conversing over how much of an inconsiderate bastard Gokudera was, stopped and glanced back when they noticed the taller teen wasn’t following anymore.

“Are you okay, Takeshi-kun?” Airi asked in concern, noticing how Yamamoto stared longingly back towards the store they had just left.

Yamamoto couldn’t help but flinch at the familiar use of his name when it wasn’t coming from the person he wanted to hear it from.  He glanced back towards the girls who were waiting for him with looks of concern on their faces.

Instead of answering her question, Yamamoto stated what was on his mind; what had been on his mind the moment he left the laundry mat.  “I’m going back,” he announced with such clarity and certainty in his voice that anyone would be hard pressed to argue back. 

Both girls stared at the young baseball player incredulously.

“What do you mean?” Airi asked in bewilderment, her friend also piping up with, “Why do you want to do that?!”

Seemingly unfazed by their questions, Yamamoto responded, “What Gokudera was talking about back there, he didn’t mean what he was saying; well, most of it anyway,” he added as an afterthought, thinking back on how hurt the other boy had appeared.

“So, you’re just going to go back after all the things he said to you?!” The girls exclaimed in unison, not understanding why Yamamoto would come up with such a decision.

Yamamoto had to calm himself and try not to look as annoyed as he felt; he just wanted to get back to where Gokudera was; the quicker, the better.  He tried to explain as best as he could, truly believing every word he was about to say.  “Look, I know Gokudera was saying some bad things back there, but, in the end, I don’t think he really wanted me to go.  He usually says the opposite of what he means when he’s angry.”

The girls stood in silence at that, looking more and more angry and offended with each second that past. 

“So you would rather hang out with that dysfunctional asshole than with people who can actually function normally?”  The black-haired girl sneered with contempt.  “Wow, that guy has you brainwashed.”

Yamamoto looked a little offended at the statement, but before he could reply, Airi offered up her own question.

“Yamamoto-san?” Airi asked hesitantly, catching the surprised looks from her friend and the taller boy as she used his family name again.  Her eyes looked sorrowful, but, underneath them, her two companions could see the determination that she felt as she asked the next question with more certainty.  “Gokudera-san means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”

Airi’s friend looked baffled at what she thought was a random question but Yamamoto was more perceptive, picking up on what Airi was really getting at.  He was a little hesitant at admitting it to someone, especially to a person who could hate him in the next second and spread the news around school, but Yamamoto felt like Airi wasn’t a vindictive person.  Going with his gut feeling (it was hardly ever wrong), Yamamoto stared into Airi’s eyes with as much certainty and conviction as he felt. 

“Yeah, he does.”

Airi’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, showing her hurt and sadness at the taller boy’s confession.  She was silent for a while as she quickly looked away, her friend looking on in worry and confusion, and Yamamoto shifting nervously at her actions.  Peering back up into Yamamoto’s eyes, she gathered her thoughts and said the thing she thought she would never say to her crush.

“Then you should go back to him.”

Her words were spoken with such finality that there was no room for argument, even though she knew Yamamoto wouldn’t argue with her concerning this matter.  The dark-haired athlete looked caught off guard at Airi’s words but was soon smiling his trade-mark smile once again.

“Thanks, Airi-chan,” he spoke softly, his words filled with gratitude.

“That’s Takaki-san to you now,” Airi gently quipped with a little humor in her voice.

Yamamoto laughed at the girl’s words like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.  He waved as he walked towards the direction of the laundry mat, giving Airi an apologetic smile as he made his way back to the person he cared about more than any other.

Airi smiled sadly back and waved as well.  Why did all the cute boys have to be—

“What the heck just happened?!” the black-haired girl shouted in confusion, completely lost on her friend’s and her ‘supposedly-no-longer-her-boyfriend’s’ behavior.

Airi felt a headache coming on as she said.  “Yamamoto-san doesn’t seem to be into me.”

And she thankfully left it at that.

\-----

Yamamoto was glad that Airi—oh wait, he meant Takaki-san—understood what was going on, and was able to let him go without a fuss. Still, that didn’t mean he felt any apprehension for what he had to do next.

He had to confront a clearly upset Gokudera.

That’s what was bothering Yamamoto the most.  He didn’t understand why Gokudera was so upset.  The taller boy was usually very perceptive on how to read the smaller bomber, but he couldn’t help it if the boy was sending him so many mixed messages.  One moment the silver-haired teen seemed happy that he was there, the next, he was angry and upset without any transition.  The taller teen felt a headache slowly forming but, honestly, when did he **_not_** have a headache when it involved Gokudera Hayato?  That boy made him think more than he was physically used to.

As he was rubbing his temples to placate his growing headache, Yamamoto caught the shape of a building out of the corner of his eye. It was the ice cream parlor where he had purchased his ice cream earlier. Maybe he could get Gokudera something since he didn’t buy him an ice cream beforehand?  If anything, it could be a good peace offering.  With a new spring in his step, Yamamoto entered the building and walked up to the counter, already knowing what he wanted to buy for the easily-agitated bomber.

“So, you’re back for some more ice cream, sir?” The front clerk asked him since he recognized Yamamoto from before. The clerk then quickly added as a joke “Did you forget to buy your girlfriend something and she sent you back?”

The black-haired teen couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“Something like that,” he answered playfully, liking the sound of the question.  Gokudera would probably blow him up along with the surrounding area if he heard him being referred to as his girlfriend, though.

The clerk laughed good-naturedly in return, “So what will it be then, sir?”

Yamamoto gave the other boy his best smile, his eyes shining with laughter from his own personal joke.  “One small Brownie Bomb, please!”

\------

The sudden absence of a certain Vongola rain guardian struck a heavy cord in Gokudera’s heart. He was currently sitting on top of his designated washing machine again, his legs crossed with his elbows leaning against them and his hands covering his face.  The storm guardian didn’t care if he looked pathetic and that everyone in the laundry mat was probably looking at him funny at the moment. He just had too many things to think about, like the sudden realization of his feelings for a certain tall baseball player, who was a **_boy_** , might he add.

The young, silver-haired Italian sat in complete confusion, wondering when he had actually started feeling differently about the taller Japanese boy.  From the gut feeling he was receiving, Gokudera knew that his feelings didn’t happen recently, nor did they happen the moment he first laid eyes on the other boy either.  Gokudera clearly remembered his first encounter with the baseball player.   He had found the taller boy annoying and almost intolerable because he was so touchy-feely.  When had all that changed?  Did it change when he had started thinking about the boy as a comrade; as his friend?  Maybe his feelings had barely been there at that time, hiding deep underneath the surface, and impossible for him to grasp?  Gokudera knew when he had started feeling friendship towards Yamamoto but, now that he thought about it more, his friendship with the other boy seemed to mean something more because of how much they both struggled to make it work.  Was that because they subconsciously wanted to be closer than just friends?

Gokudera’s head was beginning to hurt.  He was putting words into the taller boy’s mouth now.  Yamamoto has always been a friendly and touchy-feely sort of guy, so why should Gokudera think that Yamamoto was acting differently around him compared to everyone else?  Sure, the boy cooked for him on occasion, but that was just him helping a friend out, nothing more.  And sure, they had almost shared a…a kiss (Gokudera could feel his face heat up at the thought) but that could have been a mistake on both of their parts.  Wasn’t it natural to lean towards someone when they were happy or when they stared at each other longer than necessary? 

“ _Or maybe I’m just pulling all of these thoughts out of my ass and confusing myself even more!_ ”  The young Italian thought irately as he gathered his thoughts back together.  First off, he knew now that he held feelings for his tall baseball playing friend. Secondly, he knew that he had no idea if the boy in question actually felt the same way back. Thirdly, Yamamoto had a **_girlfriend_** now (Gokudera felt inexplicable rage at the very thought). And, fourthly, he had just took his frustrations out on the one person he cared the most about (the Tenth was also in that category but for an entirely different reason), and had probably hurt not only his chances of being with him but also staying as the other teen’s friend.

Gokudera hardly remembered a time he had felt so upset and pissed-off at himself; the death of his beloved Tenth in the future due to his negligence the only thing that came to his mind (even if the whole death thing was set up in the first place, the despair and disappointment he felt during that time still counted).  Even though the situations were completely different, the silver-haired teen couldn’t stop the feeling of loss that overwhelmed him, like a huge wave was dragging him down into its dark, watery depths, tossing him back and forth until he didn’t know which way the surface was so he could catch his breath.

When would he stop screwing up his personal life?!

Lamenting over is failure as a human being, Gokudera failed to hear the tinkling of the laundry mat bells as the door opened and a tall, handsome figure reappeared in the store.  It wasn’t until he heard his name being called out by a hesitant voice that the Italian removed his hands from his eyes and glimpsed towards the doorway, his eyes widening in surprise at the figure before him.

“Yamamoto…?” The silver-haired boy whispered out in disbelief as he gawked at the rain guardian, who was hesitantly making his way towards him.  Yamamoto looked almost unsure of himself, but Gokudera could see the apology in his hesitant smile and the worry in his vibrant brown eyes. 

The dark-haired teen stopped a couple feet away from his smaller friend then.  He wasn’t sure if he would actually be welcomed back by the feisty bomber, so he decided to keep a safe distance.  As he focused directly into Gokudera’s questioning green eyes, his smaller friend opened his mouth to speak again.

“…Why did you come back?” The Italian bomber asked, barely raising his voice, like he almost feared that, if he yelled, the other boy would leave again.  Gokudera didn’t understand why Yamamoto would come back after the way he had acted towards him and his…girlfriend…

Yamamoto stared sadly at the quiet boy in front of him.  He must have hurt Gokudera badly if the other boy wouldn’t even raise his voice towards him like he usually did.  “I had to,” the taller boy stated solemnly.  “I…couldn’t just leave after all that.  I didn’t want you to stay upset with me.”

“Heh,” Gokudera gave a small sarcastic laugh at the taller boy’s comment, his eyes overshadowed with sorrow.  As much as he was glad that Yamamoto had come back, that didn’t mean it was the right thing to do given the circumstances. “I bet your girlfriend didn’t like you coming back here after all those things I said about her and you.  You should probably go back,” he told the taller boy, even though he wanted nothing more than for him to stay.

Yamamoto didn’t expect his silver-haired friend to respond so dejectedly but he trudged on ahead nonetheless.  He really wanted, more than anything else, to find out what was bothering the other teen, and wipe that despairing look off his face.  Seeing the usually fiery and unpredictable teen so depressed made Yamamoto feel depressed as well. 

“Well, about that,” Yamamoto smiled as he scratched his cheek sheepishly, referring to his supposed ‘girlfriend’ since they were on that topic.  “Takaki-san and I thought it probably wouldn’t work out, so we went our separate ways.  It’s funny how things work out in the end, huh?”

Gokudera stiffened in shock, his eyes widening at the news as he gaped openly at the tall athlete in front of him.  He wasn’t going out with that girl anymore?  Yamamoto and her had been an official couple for only a few minutes and they decided to break it off?!  What kind of sense did that make?!  That had to be the shortest-lived romance he had **_ever_** heard of!

“Are you freaking joking with me?!” Gokudera exclaimed, finally raising his voice and clearly showing his disbelief.  “That girl looked so happy at the thought of being your girlfriend, you expect me to believe she decided to dump you the moment you left the store?!  I’m not fucking **_stupid_**!”

Yamamoto was taken aback at the sudden outburst and the hurt in the other boy’s eyes.  He didn’t want Gokudera to misunderstand him, so he tried his best to explain without telling the older boy his true feelings; that probably wouldn’t go over so well. Bringing his hands up (one still holding the ice cream he had just recently bought) half-way to try and calm the other teen down, Yamamoto began to explain.  “After we left, I wanted to come back and apologize for whatever I did to upset you, but Takaki-san didn’t like that idea too much.  Eventually, we came to an understanding that it wasn’t going to work out between us, so we split up and I came back here.”

Gokudera eyes narrowed as he tried to scrutinize the dark-haired boy in front of him, seeing if he was really telling the truth.  Usually, Yamamoto would never lie to him (that’s what Gokudera thought anyway) but he just wanted to really make sure the other girl was out of the picture. 

Noticing the other boy’s scrutiny, Yamamoto continued speaking, reaffirming what he had just said. Why did Gokudera doubt him? “Really, Gokudera, I’m telling the truth.  I’m not involved with Takaki-san anymore and, to tell the truth, I wasn’t really interested with her too much to begin with.  She was really nice and liked baseball but…I couldn’t really see myself with her.” The taller teen then bowed his head in shame, stricken with guilt by his actions.  “I’m an idiot for just up and deciding to be her boyfriend when I didn’t really care for her enough in the first place.”

Of course, the real truth to that was because he wanted someone to distract him from his feelings for Gokudera, but the silver-haired teen didn’t need to know that. 

The young Italian seemed to pick up on the fact that the baseball-idiot wasn’t telling him the whole truth but he decided to ignore it and, instead, tried to reiterate why Yamamoto had come back in the first place.  “So…you came back…because you didn’t want me to stay upset with you?”  The older boy murmured softly, stating his words as more of a fact than an actual question.

“Yeah,” The Vongola rain guardian added, his eyes softening as he continued to tell the other boy what he had been meaning to say from the beginning.  “I also had a promise to keep with you, remember? Didn’t I say I would help you carry your laundry back to your apartment?”

Gokudera sighed at that, his head bowed slightly with his hair partially covering his face.  It wasn’t enough to hide the silver-haired teen’s true emotions from Yamamoto, though; Gokudera’s jade-green eyes brimmed with gratitude, and his smile was so soft and affectionate that it stole Yamamoto’s breath away.

“Yeah,” the young Italian murmured fondly, saying his next words with a tenderness he didn’t know he possessed as he affirmed the taller boy’s question. “You said something stupid like that.”

Yamamoto released the breath he didn’t know he was holding and laughed ecstatically at his friend’s words.  Seeing Gokudera smile, even though the other boy had tried to hide it, told him he had been forgiven for whatever he had done in the first place (something told him he probably wouldn’t find out what that was; not right away, anyways).  With a spring back in his step and a 1000-watt smile on his face, Yamamoto sidled up to his secret crush sitting on the washer and presented him with a little present.

“Here,” the delighted athlete stated simply as he offered the small cup of ice cream he had purchase for the other boy.

Gokudera was a little startled as the frozen treat was practically shoved enthusiastically into his face (really, Yamamoto had to learn to better control his movements when he was excited).  He looked at the small cup of ice cream offered to him with a slight stupefied expression.  “Um, what is this for?”

Yamamoto laughed lightheartedly at that.  It was such a silly question.  “It’s for you to eat, of course!”

The young Italian looked a little taken aback by that.  He didn’t really know what to think.  “Why? Why would you—”

“It’s because I didn’t buy you one beforehand when the girls were here,” Yamamoto interrupted, predicting the question and smiling with amusement as he explained further.  “I didn’t buy you one because you were sleeping, and I thought the ice cream would melt before you woke up.  I bought it on the way back because I thought it would make you feel better!”

Gokudera blushed a little at that, finally taking the offered ice cream, but still not willing to show his gratitude. He wanted to maintain **_some_** of his pride at the least.  “Idiot, why would ice cream make me feel better?”

Yamamoto smiled knowingly as the bomber looked away from him and tried to hide his feelings.  Gokudera could be so cute sometimes.  Yamamoto knew it was the bomber’s special way of saying ‘thank you’. 

“Haha, ice cream makes everyone feel better!” Yamamoto stated matter-of-factly, watching as Gokudera took an experimental spoonful of the vanilla ice cream with brownie chunks and chocolate syrup into his mouth. 

Gokudera swore he had just tasted a bit of heaven. 

Trying to hide the unmistakable satisfaction on his face (he didn’t want Yamamoto getting a big head for doing something right for once) he stated his next words as calmly as he could, trying to gather information on his delicious frozen treat.  “Hmm, it’s not bad,” he strained out, trying his best to not look too excited. “What’s it called anyway?”

Too bad for Gokudera that Yamamoto was super observant whenever it involved him, so the taller boy didn’t miss a second of the other boy’s exuberant expression that he had tried to hide.  Silently laughing at what he was about to tell the silver-haired boy, Yamamoto answered Gokudera’s question.  “Well, I didn’t know what you would like, so I went with the ice cream that sounded like something you’d want.  It’s called a Brownie Bomb!”

Gokudera couldn’t stop the snort of laughter that escaped him at the mentioned name.  It was funny because he probably would have bought the ice cream just because of the name.  He swore Yamamoto knew him too well. 

“Brownie Bomb, huh?”  He questioned, unable to hide the mirth in his eyes.  Gokudera watched as Yamamoto’s hazel eyes lit up with happiness at his good mood. 

“Haha, you like it?”  The taller boy asked humorously, the smile never leaving his face as he placed both of his hands on the washer on either side of Gokudera’s legs as his body naturally leaned closer to the boy sitting above him.  “I was really hoping you would.”

Noticing the other boy drawing closer to him, Gokudera couldn’t help but wonder if the other teen was doing it on purpose or unconsciously.  His thoughts quickly flew out the metaphorical window, though, when he realized how close the taller teens face was to his, his light-brown eyes dancing with happiness as he waited for Gokudera to speak. 

“Yeah…it’s…good…” Gokudera whispered softly, his eyes in a daze as he took the other teen in before him.  His voice must have triggered something in the dark-haired teen because Gokudera swore he saw his face drawing closer, and he would have been lying to himself if he said he wasn’t excited at what would probably happen next.  Gokudera was so thankful to Yamamoto for coming back and for caring about him in the first place, even when he knew he didn’t deserve the other boy’s kindness, that the silver-haired teen couldn’t help but slowly close his eyes in anticipation.

Mere inches away from tasting the others’ lips, the washing machine decided to divinely intervene again, buzzing obnoxiously, and breaking yet another moment between the two boys. 

The two guardians jumped in surprise at the loud noise, their faces the perfect description of embarrassment.  The teens were lost in an awkward struggle after that, trying to figure out if the other had been moving forward with them or if it had just been their imaginations.  Too embarrassed to bring up the subject for fear of even more awkwardness (or worse, rejection), the two teens decided to ignore those thoughts for now and tried to get things back to normal again, while also trying to ignore the freaked out glares they were getting from some of the customers in the process.  Without even words having to be said, Gokudera handed Yamamoto his ice cream and went to work unloading his whites from the dryer, a blush still tainting his cheeks as he remembered the second kiss that had almost happened.  The storm guardian couldn’t help but feel irritated at the thought of the interruption.

Gokudera swore that when this was all done, he was going to blow up every freaking washer and dryer in this store for screwing with him.

Too pissed off at the machines for doing him a personal wrong, Gokudera grabbed the whites from the dryer and threw them unceremoniously back into the duffel bag with his darks without folding them.  He then proceeded to empty the washing machine of his jeans and placed them in the dryer to dry. 

“So, is that it?” Yamamoto asked a little shyly, his cheeks still blushing from recent events as he watched Gokudera bustling back and forth.

Knowing that the taller boy was referring to his laundry, Gokudera sadly shook his head.  “No, I still need to wash one more load.”

With that, the Italian emptied his second duffel bag of its contents, placing what looked like bed sheets and bath towels into the washer and started it up.  Once that was done, Gokudera turned around to meet Yamamoto’s eyes, only to notice the other boy was looking distractedly out the window, unconsciously eating Gokudera’s ice cream.

There was a short pause as Gokudera stared at the tall, oblivious teen unbelievingly.

“What the hell are you **_doing_** , Baseball-Idiot?!” The Italian screamed indignantly, breaking the stupefied silence that had almost overtook him.  “You’re eating **_my_** ice cream!”

Jumping in surprise, Yamamoto was shocked to find the other’s spoon in his mouth and the taste of chocolate on his tongue.  He had no idea he had been doing that!

“Oh geez, I’m sorry, Gokudera!  I didn’t know I was even doing that!” The dark-haired boy apologized profusely, handing the ice cream and spoon back to their designated owner.  The tall athlete had been trying to distract himself from almost kissing Gokudera again that his hands had acted like they had a mind of their own and busied themselves with whatever they had at hand (no pun intended).

The young Italian looked a little offended as he took his precious ice cream back.  “You better have not eaten too much of it, idiot!”  He stated grimly as he grabbed another spoonful of his delectable treat and ate it, his irritation slightly relieved by the amazing taste that attacked his taste buds.  

Mere seconds after this action, both boys came to realize at the same time that through the spoon that Gokudera had just placed back in his mouth, they had both just indirectly shared a kiss; Yamamoto having shared one just prior when he had been subconsciously eating Gokudera’s ice cream as well.  The two Vongola guardians blushed so hard they put Gokudera’s storm flames to shame.  They averted their eyes from each other, both embarrassed but secretly happy at this turn of events, but not knowing how the other would react.  So they continued to look away in silence, Gokudera continuing to eat his ice cream much to Yamamoto’s surprise, and Yamamoto trying to come up with a conversation to divert attention elsewhere.

It wasn’t long until the two friends put their embarrassing thoughts aside. Yamamoto had thankfully brought up the subject of Tsuna’s date with Kyoko. Both relieved at the change of subject, they discussed what they thought Tsuna was doing for the date and how it was going, among many other things with much abandon.  Yamamoto was ecstatic that Gokudera was willingly talking with him and enjoying their conversation, while Gokudera was grateful that Yamamoto was there to begin with.  Maybe he wouldn’t screw up again and get a second chance with the tall rain guardian?

He just didn’t know when he would take that chance, if at all.

Sooner than they expected, the timer for the washer and dryer went off again and Gokudera, after throwing away his now empty cup of ice cream, threw his dry jeans into the second duffel bag and placed his linens in the dryer.  Happy that they had only one more load to wait for before they could leave the place, the two teens tried to come up with something to do while they waited.

It wasn’t long till Gokudera found some abandoned playing cards in the waiting area; a curious Yamamoto behind him, and looking at the cards expectantly.  Feeling uncharacteristically generous at the moment, Gokudera then offered to teach Yamamoto how to play poker (after all, all great Mafioso had to know how to play poker).  They would just play for sport and not money (Gokudera was practically flat-ass broke after all).

It wasn’t long into the game, after explaining it a couple times to Yamamoto, before Gokudera realized that, one, Yamamoto was a quick learner when he wanted to be, and, two, that Yamamoto had to be extremely lucky for a beginner because Gokudera was losing, **_badly_**. 

The young Italian’s good mood quickly turned sour as he tried to read the Japanese boy’s expression, wondering if the boy was bluffing about his cards.  The young Italian could never seem to read the taller boy’s expressions.  He had heard of poker faces (and he thought his own was rather good), but he had never seen someone play a game of poker with a stupid excited smile on their face at every card that was drawn; it threw the young Italian for a loop.  He knew it was time to quit when he had chickened out and folded on the last draw and Yamamoto had won with a pair of twos; no one could come back from that with their dignity intact.

Huffing angrily, with Yamamoto laughing good naturedly in the background, Gokudera made his way to the dryer, grateful for the buzzer that had sounded the end of their humiliating game.  Quickly throwing his dry linens into the second duffel bag, Gokudera was more than happy to get out of there.  Of course, Yamamoto wasn’t too far behind in that thought as well, as he made his way over to the relieved Italian, his hand coming out in an offering gesture, and his famous smile a forever constant on his face.

With a knowing smirk, Gokudera handed Yamamoto the same duffel bag from before with the heavy laundry soap in it (payback for the horribly humiliating poker game), and made his way to the door, the other duffel bag secured around his shoulders.  Yamamoto smiled softly (even when he hefted the twice as heavy bag over his shoulder and winced at the weight) and followed his companion out of the laundry mat, both boys unknowingly cutting off the unlucky old lady who was making her way out of the store as well.

Walking side by side in companionable silence, Gokudera and Yamamoto started the long trek back to Gokudera’s apartment, soundly ignoring the rambling curses of an angry old woman they left in their wake.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, here is the last chapter! I hope you enjoy it! Thank you to all who comment or kudos this story =D

The sun was slowly beginning to set, signaling the end of the day for Yamamoto and Gokudera as they walked back towards Gokudera’s apartment.  Their progress was slow but tolerable. Both boys didn’t have to carry too much and the temperature had cooled down, making walking exceptionally easier compared to Gokudera’s trek earlier that morning. 

The two had been walking in companionable silence for a couple blocks now, occasionally sneaking glances at one another and basking in the other’s company without letting the other person know.  Gokudera was disheartened at the thought of when they finally reached his apartment, Yamamoto would probably have to head back home to help his father with the shop. 

As he thought more about their walk in general, Gokudera couldn’t help but ask, “Hey, Yamamoto, you seem to have a lot of money on you today.  Don’t you have enough for us to take a bus or something?"

Yamamoto laughed good-naturedly at the question.  “Well, I saved up a lot of my earnings from the shop to take Takaki-san out on a date today, so it shouldn’t really be a surprise that I have so much.”  The taller boy then turned his head and smiled serenely at his smaller friend.  “I probably do have enough money left over for bus fare but I enjoy walking more.  Exercise is good for you!”

The smoking bomber chuckled a little at the comment as his taller friend smiled cheekily down at him.  “Well, I guess I have no choice but to get my exercise today.  I just wish it didn’t have to be with an annoying idiot like you,” the silver-haired teen quipped almost affectionately.  He truly didn’t mind walking back with his tall athletic friend; it gave him more time to enjoy the other’s company for just a bit longer.

“Haha, you’re so mean, Gokudera,” Yamamoto joked while bumping his friend affectionately with his elbow, earning a challenging glint and a playful smirk from the smaller boy.  The raven-haired teen was amazed by the drastic turnabout of Gokudera’s attitude when he compared it to this morning’s.  Ever since he had apologized to the feisty smoker back in the laundry mat, the smaller teen had been more lively and friendly towards him then Yamamoto could ever remember.  He was a little shocked at the drastic change in attitude but he wasn’t complaining all the same.  Gokudera was actually having fun while he was with him and that’s all Yamamoto cared about.

The taller boy was snapped out of his thoughts by a playful push then. 

“You’re such an idiot,” Gokudera chuckled softly in a joking manner, sending his friend a small but fond smile.  Yamamoto, at first, gave a joyful laugh at the other boy’s playful actions, but his breath soon caught at the sight of the smile being directed towards him.  It was rather quick, Gokudera already turning his head away and replacing his smile with his usual stoic features like it had never happened, but Yamamoto had seen it fast enough to know that he hadn’t been hallucinating.  The taller boy couldn’t suppress the tingle that Gokudera’s smile sent down his spine, turning his insides into mush, and making him feel all warm and fuzzy at the thought of seeing it again.

He must have been staring for quite awhile because Gokudera turned his head questioningly towards him, the silver-haired teen’s eyes silently asking him why he was staring.  Those jade-green orbs were so vibrant, and so full of life, which Yamamoto wasn’t used to seeing, that it took everything the taller teen had to not grab the smaller teen, push him up against the nearest building, and kiss him until both of them were breathless. 

Thankfully, Yamamoto was spared from doing such a drastic life altering action as the two Mafioso turned a corner and walked into the front area of Gokudera’s apartment complex.  Both boys’ eyes widened in surprise at their sudden arrival.  Neither of them had been really paying attention to their location up until that point.  The sight of the two-story complex sent the two Vongola guardians spiraling down in disappointment, neither secretly wanting the other to leave.

Gokudera glimpsed up at his taller friend, trying his best to hide his depression.  Feeling the gaze on him, Yamamoto peered down at the silver-haired bomber, noticed the less-than-happy look on the other’s face, and gave him a sad but reassuring smile.

“I’ll help carry your laundry up to your room, okay?” Yamamoto promised Gokudera, restating his promise from earlier to reassure him he wasn’t going anywhere just yet.

Breaking out of his depressing thoughts, Gokudera just rolled his eyes.  “Idiot, I already knew that,” he stated calmly as he made his way towards the staircase.  Did Yamamoto think he expected the other boy to just drop his duffel bag in the front yard and leave him there to figure the rest out?  That would have been very rude and un-Yamamoto-like.

As Gokudera made his way to the stairs, Yamamoto following closely behind as usual, the silver-haired teen felt an uncomfortable prickling at the back of his neck; a feeling of dread washing over him.  Stopping abruptly at the foot of the stairs, the storm guardian scanned his surroundings, looking for the source of his discomfort.  Noticing the other’s paranoia, Yamamoto looked around the immediate area as well, not entirely sure what he was looking for but willing to help his shorter friend in any way possible.  It wasn’t too long after this that Yamamoto’s well trained eyes caught something of interest walking towards them. 

“Hey, Gokudera, is that your landlord?” Yamamoto asked innocently, pointing to the left of where they were standing.  Gokudera’s eyes narrowed distastefully, spotting the walking slut-bag making her way towards them.  She was wearing a tank top that barely covered her well-endowed bosom, and jeans that were cut so low that he could see the strings of her thong poking out from the denim and laying across her provocative hips.  Yamamoto had recognized her because she had introduced herself to him during one of the taller boy’s cooking visits to Gokudera’s apartment.  Thankfully, Gokudera had been there to stop the slutty woman from asking the naïve athlete over to her place for some sweets, since she lived on the premises herself (conveniently beneath Gokudera’s apartment, much to his discomfort).  As she sauntered her way over to them, swaying her hips too much to be considered normal, and her long bleached-blonde hair swaying with them, Gokudera couldn’t stop the disgusted scowl that appeared on his face.

He knew the following conversation was going to be annoying, **_painfull_** y annoying.

“Why, if it isn’t Gokudera-san!” The tall, bleach-blonde woman exclaimed with an over-friendly voice, like her and Gokudera were long lost friends. Ignoring the irritated glare from the young Italian she received as a result, she added insult to her own intelligence by widening her eyes in fake surprise as she gazed up at Yamamoto.  “Oh my, is this that tall friend of yours that always comes by?  I didn’t see you there for a second!”

The woman, of course, was lying.  Who wouldn’t notice a six-foot-tall, well tanned, physically toned athlete with a smile as bright as a beacon until they were right in front of them?  Gokudera felt his headache coming back at the stupidity of the situation.

Yamamoto seemed uncomfortable with the woman’s actions as well, catching Gokudera’s eye for a second with an ‘is-she-kidding-me?’ look.  “Um, yeah, that’s me!” Yamamoto smiled with slight hesitance, trying his best to appear friendly.  “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Oh, aren’t you such a nice and polite boy!”  The land lord exclaimed happily.  “You’re so unlike someone **_else_** I know.” She emphasized who she was talking about even more by turning herself away from a slowly angering Gokudera, and focused her complete attention on the taller raven-haired boy beside him.  She narrowed her eyes seductively, placing a tantalizing hand onto Yamamoto’s shoulder, and giving it a small rub with her thumb then.  “You know, you still haven’t come over to try some of my sweets that I offered last time.  Would you like to come over for a little bit?” She said this with a sultry whisper, giving Yamamoto’s shoulder a playful squeeze.

The landlord’s sleazy act was cut short by a hand grabbing her arm and almost ripping it off Yamamoto’s shoulder with enough force to dislocate it.  The bleach-blonde woman’s eyes meeting flaming, murderous green.

“What the fuck do you think you’re **_doing_**?!” The young Italian screamed in indignation, his grip tightening painfully over the woman’s arm.  

Seeing the dangerous situation at hand, Yamamoto was quick to act, grabbing Gokudera’s shoulders from behind and pulling the older boy back and away from his startled landlord.  Apparently, she wasn’t used to manhandling of that sort. 

“Now, now, Gokudera, she was just being friendly,” Yamamoto tried to console his friend reassuringly.

Gokudera wasn’t having any of that, though.  Was Yamamoto too dumb to see what the woman really wanted from him?!

“Like hell she was!  I’ll kill her!”  The shorter boy screamed furiously, having every intention to do just as he said.

Laughing nervously at his friends threatening tone, Yamamoto turned Gokudera around and started pushing him up the stairs.  Glancing back, he offered a friendly smile to the still flustered land lord, trying to appease the situation before Gokudera got himself into more trouble and possibly getting himself evicted in the process.  “Haha, sorry about that miss, he’s been having a rough day.  I’ll, uh, take your offer up at another time!”

The older woman smiled victoriously at that, giving the taller boy flirtatious wink.  “I’m looking forward to it.”

This statement was the final straw for the silver-haired Italian as he started shouting expletives over Yamamoto’s shoulder (who was still pushing him up the stairs) down at the slutty woman below them, telling her to go do things to herself that were physically impossible but she had probably tried to do anyway.  Gokudera was still screaming furiously at the woman once they reached his apartment, albeit unconsciously flipping to his native tongue in his unsuppressed rage.  Yamamoto had to steal the keys from Gokudera’s pants pocket (he had felt them in their earlier when he was digging for change), the fiery bomber thankfully not noticing, and unlocked the door, dragging the now thrashing teen from his screaming hold on the walkway railing and into the apartment. 

The closing of the apartment door signaled Gokudera to turn his murderous gaze onto the taller teen before him.  Grabbing fistfuls of the Yamamoto’s shirt, the silver-haired bomber slammed the other boy back-first into the nearest wall.

“What the fuck is your **_problem_**?!” The enraged teen screamed ferociously, his green eyes blazing with a dangerous fire.  “Do you have any idea on what you just **_promised_** her?!”

Having been surprised by the smaller teen’s sudden attack, it took Yamamoto a moment to gather his thoughts and place his hands on the other boys’, his eyes reassuring. 

“It’s alright Gokudera,” Yamamoto whispered comfortingly to the still enraged teen holding him against the wall.  “I was just lying to her so she would be happy and forget about you attacking her.  The last thing you need now is to get evicted because you couldn’t control your temper.”

Gokudera’s eye’s narrowed suspiciously, wanting to believe the other boy.  He hated to think that Yamamoto would actually be interested in anyone who offered themselves to him in that way.  Gokudera shook his head to clear his thoughts.  He was being silly.  Yamamoto had more integrity than that.  Maybe his fears of losing Yamamoto to another girl had gotten the better of him and he had overreacted?   The silver-haired teen sighed in acceptance, letting his hands fall from Yamamoto’s shirt. 

“Whatever,” he stated in exhaustion, his eyes diverted to the floor.  “Just hand over the duffel bag and leave. You need to help your father at the store, right?”

Yamamoto tried not to show his hurt at Gokudera’s curt tone; he didn’t want to think the other boy wanted to get rid of him again.  So, instead, he smiled as best as he could.  “My dad’s used to me not being there on Sundays, so it should be okay if I stay here for a bit longer—if you don’t mind, that is,” he added quickly while rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Gokudera glanced back up at the dark-haired teen, giving him a calculated look.  “I don’t know why you would want to stay…”  He said hesitantly, trying not to appear hopeful at the taller boy’s words.  “I’m just going to be ironing my clothes so—”

The silver-haired Italian’s words were cut off by Yamamoto’s amused laughter.  “You iron your clothes, Gokudera?”  The taller teen teasingly joked, the image of the silver-haired bomber humming a happy tune while he ironed his underwear popping up in the baseball player’s overactive mind. 

This, of course, irritated the smaller teen to no end.  “What the hell is wrong with that?!”  He shouted indignantly, wondering why the taller boy found the thought so funny.  Maybe it made him sound girly?  Blushing at the thought, the older boy tried his best to explain.  “I usually don’t iron my clothes but since we stuffed all of mine back into the bags without folding them, they’ll be wrinkled.  Do you expect me to go outside in clothes that look like I slept in them?”

The taller boy tilted his head in mock-confusion, trying to rile up the other teen more so that he could see more of his blush.  “Huh?  What’s wrong with that?”

Right on cue, Gokudera took the bait and started yelling at him.  “Are you stupid?!  What kind of right-hand man would I be if I didn’t try to look presentable!  Do you want me to shame the Tenth?!”

Yamamoto just laughed at the other boy’s response and placed his hands on the irritated teen’s shoulders in order to calm him down.  “Now, now, Gokudera, no one is getting on your case about it.  Why don’t you just iron your clothes like you planned to, and I’ll make us dinner?  It’s getting kind of late, and with all these clothes to take care of, you probably won’t have time to make something for yourself.”

Gokudera calmed down at the feeling of Yamamoto’s hands on his shoulders, looking away in embarrassment when the other boy mentioned making dinner.  “I…don’t have that much food left in the kitchen,” he stated uncomfortably, shoving his hands into his pockets.  “I don’t know what you’d be able to make.”

Yamamoto just smiled in response, his eyes lighting up at the challenge.  “Don’t worry about that, I’ll just see what you have and buy some things at the nearby convenience store that I’ll need.  I should have enough money for that at least.”

“You don’t have to do that, Yamamoto,” Gokudera expressed, his eyes flashing with unease.  “You’ve done enough for me today, and you paid for so much already—”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Yamamoto cut him off with a reassuring squeeze to the other teen’s shoulders.  “It’s my money and I’ll spend it on whoever or whatever I want to.  I…I want to spend it on you, Gokudera,” He mentioned shyly, a small blush appearing on his cheeks.

Gokudera couldn’t help but blush at the taller teen’s words as well, diverting his eyes so he wouldn’t get caught up in Yamamoto’s.  “Well, uh…” The silver-haired Italian uttered in embarrassment, touched by Yamamoto’s words.  “I-I’ll be in my room then, I guess.”

Yamamoto smiled in relief at the other boy’s acceptance.  He finally let go of Gokudera and lifted the duffel bag he was carrying off of his shoulders, handing it over to the other teen.  Gokudera accepted the duffel bag and, with a blush still present on his face, exited quickly towards his bedroom door where his ironing supplies were kept, and closed the door behind him in his wake.  Yamamoto chuckled softly at the Italian bomber’s behavior, finding it rather cute, and decided to get back down to business.

It didn’t take long for the taller boy to scan the cupboards and fridge with an expert eye, knowing where he usually placed the ingredients he bought for the smaller teen.  Knowing he wanted to make something that didn’t have to be warm, since it would take Gokudera some time to iron his clothes and put them away, Yamamoto settled on the thought of sushi, noticing that Gokudera at least had parts of the ingredients already in his house.

Knowing his next destination, Yamamoto walked out of the small kitchen area and knocked politely on Gokudera’s closed bedroom door.  Without waiting for a reply, the tall athlete opened the door and peered inside.  Gokudera, in turn, looked up in surprise as the door opened, Yamamoto catching the site of a flustered Gokudera ironing one of his shirts on an ironing board, looking pretty much the same but with a red, working bandana on his head; the fabric scattered with skull prints.

“Hey, Gokudera, I’m going to head to the convenience store to pick some stuff up,” Yamamoto mentioned, holding back the incredible urge to run in there and glomp the other boy for looking ridiculously cute; his silver hair still tied back in a ponytail with the bandana covering the top of his head, and his bangs framing his face.  The taller boy couldn’t help but wonder if it was the natural law of the universe for Gokudera to look cute or sexy in anything he decided to wear.

The only response he got from the slightly flustered teen (you just didn’t go and open someone else’s bedroom door without their say so. He could have been undressing for crying out loud!) was an indifferent, “Yeah, sure, whatever.”, while he refocused completely on the task before him, not wanting to burn a hole in his shirt.

Yamamoto smiled at Gokudera’s cute indifference and left for the front door, forgetting to close Gokudera’s bedroom door again on his way, much to the smaller teen’s annoyance (who was too busy/lazy to shut it again).  Stating he would be back in a little bit, the taller teen left and started heading towards the convenience store down the street, sneaking by the landlord who was preoccupying herself with a random guy she found walking by, who, in turn, looked a little terrified as the woman began throwing herself at him.  Yamamoto shook his head sadly at the scene.  That woman had seriou ** _s_** problems.

\----

A quick trip into the convenience store, and a short, but successful walk back to Gokudera’s apartment (successful in that he hadn’t run into the landlord again; that woman was starting to scare him), Yamamoto entered the apartment and made his presence known by jokingly shouting, “I’m home!”

The response was almost instantaneous. As Yamamoto shut the door, he heard a very flustered and indignant yell directed from the bedroom.  “What the hell, Yamamoto?!”

Yamamoto laughed playfully in response as he slipped on some slippers, passed by Gokudera’s bedroom, and headed towards the kitchen, not forgetting to wave cutely towards the blushing and scowling Italian through the bedroom doorway as he passed. 

The tall, raven-haired teen made quick work with gathering all the items he needed once he entered the kitchen.  He first grabbed his fish shaped apron, the one that said ‘I heart fish’, and put that on, turning on his rice cooker in the process and placing the rice within it.  Next, while he waited for the rice, Yamamoto started preparing and cutting the fish and vegetables with his cutting knifes, the young teen basking in glee at the thought of Gokudera letting him keep some of his possessions in his apartment. Yamamoto felt like he had a second home.

Once he was done preparing the sushi, Yamamoto placed them on a tray and put them in the refrigerator while he waited for the silver-haired teen to finish.  The task of making dinner now complete, the tall, dark-haired teen smiled successfully, removed his apron, and headed back towards the bedroom to check on his silver-haired friend’s progress.  Peeking his head around the door frame, the taller guardian noticed that Gokudera had succeeded in ironing his dark clothes, which were now laid on the floor in neat folded piles, and was now in the process of ironing his whites.

“Haha, well it seems you made some progress,” Yamamoto stated good-naturedly as he entered the room and made is way over to the smoking bomber.  The said silver-haired teen looked up at the taller boy’s intrusion with a hint of satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

“Yeah, I just have my white shirts and my jeans to iron and then I can fold everything up and put them away,”  The smaller teen noted proudly, pleased with how fast and efficient he was being even with his lack of ironing skills.

His brown eye’s gleaming with happiness at the prospects of Gokudera being close to finishing, Yamamoto offered some insight.  “Well, how about I help you with the rest of the stuff?  That way, it will go much quicker and we can eat sooner!”

At first, Gokudera refused; either because his pride demanded it or because he felt guilty about having Yamamoto help him so much, the taller teen couldn’t really tell.  But, soon, with enough persuasion on Yamamoto’s part, and by refusing to leave the room, Gokudera allowed him to help, teaching his taller friend how to properly fold the clothes he gave him after he was done ironing them.  For the next half-hour they did this until all of Gokudera’s shirts and jeans were ironed neatly and folded.  After this, Yamamoto helped his silver-haired friend put his clothes away up until he found the dynamite printed boxers again and started teasing the other boy about them.  Those actions were met with a slightly swollen cheek from a right hook, courtesy of Gokudera, and Yamamoto being thrown out of the bedroom, the door slammed in his face while an agitated Gokudera continued to put away his things without the baseball player’s help.  

After many apologies through the bedroom door, Yamamoto was finally able to make Gokudera come out of his bedroom after finishing his chore, the smaller boy still irritated but nonetheless forgiving, giving his taller friend a roll of his eyes in mock annoyance.  The tall rain guardian smiled cheerfully at the fact that his friend didn’t seem to be angry with him anymore and proceeded to coax him onto the couch with the promise of food, the taller teen heading towards the kitchen afterwards for the tray of sushi waiting for him.

Gokudera raised his eyebrows at the site of the sushi tray upon Yamamoto’s return, rolling his eyes in the process.  “I should have known you would make that,” the silver-haired boy couldn’t help but gripe as Yamamoto sat down next to him on the couch, placing the sushi tray down on the coffee table before them.

The taller boy laughed cheerfully in response to his friend’s semi-complaint.  “Haha, it was the only thing I could think of making.  I didn’t know how long you would take with the clothes, so I wanted to make something that didn’t have to be reheated.  Besides—” He added as he stood back up and started walking towards the kitchen for beverages, “—you already had most of the supplies here, so I just had to buy the rest of the ingredients with the little bit of money I had left—do you want water, Gokudera?”

Not missing a beat during his taller friend’s explanation, Gokudera shouted a ‘Sure!’ from his seat on the couch, popping a piece of sushi into his mouth while he waited.  The smaller teen wasn’t waiting long, because Yamamoto returned with two glasses of water a moment later, placing them down on the coffee table and plopping down in his seat again.  The two companions then began munching on the sushi as Gokudera grabbed the remote off the coffee table next to the tray and flipped on the T.V.

Yamamoto watched in silent fascination as the older teen surfed through the channels, his hazel eyes widening when Gokudera stopped briefly on a sports channel that was airing the results of a baseball game.  The young Italian didn’t stay on the channel long as he continued surfing through the channels, stopping on one that finally caught his interest.  Yamamoto frowned in disappointment, popping another sushi into his mouth as he watched the man on screen discuss with another man about U.F.O. sightings. 

Turning his attention to the silver-haired teen sitting beside him, who was far more interesting than aliens, Yamamoto kindly asked, “Hey, Gokudera?  Could you maybe turn it back to the sports channel?  I want to see how the teams did today.”

The silver-haired bomber glanced at his friend from the corner of his eye.  “Tough. We’re watching this,” he stated sternly.  The young Italian was getting interested in the show he was watching.

Yamamoto pouted at this, his eyes pleading with the smoking bomber to reconsider.  Of course, Gokudera wasn’t having any of it.  This was his house and he was going to watch what he wanted, dammit!  The young Italian crossed his arms in defiance, effectively hiding the remote from Yamamoto’s view, since he still held it in his hand.  Gokudera’s unwillingness to cooperate only fueled Yamamoto’s need for his sports results even further, causing the taller boy to lean across Gokudera’s frame and reach for the remote.

This action, of course, caught Gokudera’s attention, which resulted in the Italian and Japanese boy wrestling for the remote.  After much grappling, low blows, and a surprise tickle attack from Yamamoto (Gokudera was wondering how the other boy knew he was ticklish), Gokudera begrudgingly relinquished the remote to the taller teen, too flustered to continue with their scuffle because the other boy’s closeness was causing his body to react in a rather…embarrassing way (and he also didn’t want to be tickled anymore; trying to act tough while giggling like a girl didn’t help win that case). 

Trying to reclaim a little bit of his pride after losing to the taller teen, Gokudera just sat in gruff silence as Yamamoto flipped back to the sports channel from earlier, quickly becoming engrossed with the statistics that flashed across the screen.  As much as the baseball player’s happiness at the moment annoyed him to no end, Gokudera knew that the least he could do was let the other boy watch what he wanted. Yamamoto had helped him throughout the day, not to mention put up with him and his horrible attitude, so he deserved a little treat, right?  With an almost inaudible sigh of defeat, Gokudera resigned himself to watching the baseball game replays, taking a big gulp of his water to cool himself down from the earlier scuffle in the process, and trying not to remember how Yamamoto was literally on top of him just moments ago.

While Gokudera’s thoughts were straying closer into dangerous territory, he almost didn’t notice the channel had changed back to the alien show he had been watching before.  Seeing the very blurry picture of a U.F.O sighting right in his face, he turned to look at his taller companion in surprise.  Why did he change the channel back?

“Haha, you shouldn’t brood so much, Gokudera, you’ll start missing things,” Yamamoto laughingly joked, giving the storm guardian beside him an endearing smile.  “I was finished watching the results, so I turned it back.  You looked bored out of your mind, haha!”

Gokudera flushed a bright red at his friend’s thoughtfulness, turning his head quickly away and directing his gaze towards the television.  “Thanks,” he mumbled out in what he hoped was a too quietly to hear voice, his green eyes boring holes into the television because he was too embarrassed to look Yamamoto in the eye. The tall teen smiled knowingly at Gokudera’s shyness as he too turned his attention to what was happening on the screen. 

Within moments, both he and Gokudera finished off the sushi and were watching the T.V.; the previous informative show about aliens being replaced by a sci-fi thriller.  Now a little more interested on what was happening on screen, Yamamoto watched the beginning of the movie, occasionally sneaking glances at the totally enthralled silver-haired teen beside him.  The smaller teen was unconsciously making different faces, from keen interest, to tense excitement as the alien-like monster’s appeared on screen.  Soon, Yamamoto found that watching Gokudera’s expressions were way more interesting than what was happening on the television.

The giddy smile that had been on the taller, black-haired guardian’s face soon faded as he watched Gokudera, who was completely oblivious to his staring.  Because he was looking at the other still, Yamamoto had glanced straight ahead out the living room window to see the orange glow of the sunset.  School was tomorrow, and it was starting to get late; he would have to leave very soon.

Gokudera’s rapt attention for the sci-fi movie dwindled once the first commercial break started; breaking the exciting atmosphere the movie had been gradually building up.  It was here that the silver-haired bomber noticed his companions stare directed towards the window, his hazel eyes shining dolefully. 

“Hey, Yamamoto, you okay?” Gokudera asked hesitantly, already guessing why the younger boy was sad.  The sunset from outside was beginning to wash the room with its soft orange glow, meaning the other boy would have to head home soon, if not now if he wanted to get back before dark.

Brought out of his melancholy thoughts by Gokudera’s concerned voice, Yamamoto gave him a sheepish smile.  “Uh, yeah, I’m fine.  I’m just thinking that I should be heading out soon, haha!”

The smaller teen looked away at that, his face scrunching up in disappointment at the thought.  “Yeah,” the silver-haired teen mumbled morosely, not trying to hide his sadness for the first time ever. “You should probably start heading back so that your dad doesn’t get too angry with you.”

“Well, he usually doesn’t mind as long as I come back at a reasonable time,” Yamamoto gave with an unsure smile, scratching the back of his neck.  He wasn’t used to seeing Gokudera so disheartened, especially when it concerned him.  Yamamoto felt a flutter in his chest at the thought.  Had Gokudera actually enjoyed spending time with him?  Trying to think of a way to break the melancholy atmosphere, Yamamoto began talking again.

“Um, you know, Gokudera…” Yamamoto started, his cheeks slightly flushed as he thought over what he was going to say to his smaller friend.  Gokudera lifted his head then to look towards the taller teen sitting beside him on the sofa with slight interest.  “Today was really fun, you know?  I…I really enjoyed spending time with you,” the taller boy stated hesitantly, diverting his eyes to the side and away from his smaller friend.  “I-I think that it would be cool if we did something like this again—I mean something more fun than laundry, of course, haha—you know, just the two of us…”

Yamamoto bit his bottom lip nervously as he brought his head back up and glanced at Gokudera again.  The said silver-haired teen quickly looked away when his and Yamamoto’s eyes met briefly, his pale cheeks stained with crimson. 

“Y-You’re an idiot,” slipped unconsciously from the bomber’s mouth, who was too flustered to actually respond decently.  The smaller teen scolded himself after that; the right words hadn’t come out at all!  He wanted to say, ‘Yes, I would like that’ or something to that effect, but the words wouldn’t come.  It’s like they were sticking to the roof of his mouth, like a caramel candy, sticky and sweet and very hard to manage, and leaving the silver-haired teen completely tongue-tied.  What if he couldn’t say what he really wanted to say and Yamamoto took offense?!  The smaller teen tried to calm himself down as best as he could, but it was harder then he thought.  It just sounded like Yamamoto had asked him out on a date! 

Stopping his panic attack for a second to mull over that thought, the silver-haired guardian couldn’t stop the soft smile that slowly made its way onto his face, a warm bubbly feeling spreading throughout his body.   He wouldn’t mind that idea at all, actually.

\------

The words didn’t hurt Yamamoto like Gokudera feared they would.  In fact, those stuttered words triggered Yamamoto’s smile.  He expected Gokudera to respond that way; it was only natural. After all, Gokudera usually meant the opposite of what he said.  The taller teen couldn’t help but feel a little bit hopeful. Maybe Gokudera would accept his offer even if he looked a little bit flustered at the moment? 

It was when Gokudera had smiled, the silver-haired boy’s eyes shining gently as he stared down at his hands in his lap, that Yamamoto forgot how to breath.  Gokudera was absolutely breathtaking at that moment, looking as gentle as an angel as he stared happily off into space, lost in his own thoughts as the orange glow from the setting sun accentuating his creamy skin, and made his silver hair glow with a remarkable sheen.  Yamamoto wanted nothing more, in that moment, than to reach out and touch the beautiful painting-like image in front of him, to feel if something so stunning was actually taking place before him, to know if the silver-haired beauty felt as amazing as he looked right in that picturesque moment.

Before Yamamoto could think twice, his tanned hand was reaching out and cupping a creamy-pale cheek, urging Gokudera to turn and look towards him.  In an instant, surprised jade eyes met passionate brown, the taller boy’s hand hot against Gokudera’s skin. Not used to such an action, Gokudera flinched at the other’s searing touch, instinctively drawing away from the other boy when his mind was **_begging_** him to reconsider and reach back out and hold the other’s hand to his cheek, to revel in the other’s touch. 

But, sadly, that didn’t happen. Gokudera was too shocked to move.

The instinctive flinch from Gokudera broke whatever trance Yamamoto was in at the moment. The taller boy cringed and flinched away from the other boy as well, shocked at what he had just done, and hating the awkward silence that filled the room afterwards. 

The silence was almost stifling. Gokudera had never really experienced skin on skin contact with the other boy, so his thoughts were a jumbled mess at the moment. He had felt Yamamoto’s body heat by either standing close to the other boy or feeling the other boy’s hands on his clothed arms or shoulders whenever he tried to calm him down; he never expected the other to touch him, much less have that touch send such searing heat throughout his body the moment it made contact.  The silver-haired boy was stunned into silence as he tried to figure out the feelings he felt just moments ago, hating himself for flinching away from something that had felt so good but had frightened him to his core. Gokudera was confused as to how to handle his feelings when it involved the other boy. The Italian bomber’s pride kept getting in the way and pushing his real feelings to the side whenever something transpired between him and Yamamoto.  Did this mean that Yamamoto actually **_liked_** him?  Had that touch meant something to his taller friend?

While a million thoughts were swarming in Gokudera’s head, Yamamoto, in the meantime, was feeling completely rejected.  The taller boy mentally winced as he replayed the moment over and over again in his mind, watching as the silver-haired teen had flinched away from him, his emerald-green eyes round from shock and fright.  Yamamoto silently reprimanded himself for doing something so intimate and so sudden to the other teen.  How did he expect Gokudera to react?  With open arms as his male friend stroked his cheek?!  No, that was stupid!  Gokudera was right, he was an idiot. He was a complete **_moron_**.  He had just simultaneously made the other boy uncomfortable and possibly ruined their friendship, all because he couldn’t control himself! 

Unable to stand the stagnant silence in the room, Yamamoto mumbled something that sounded to Gokudera like, ‘I’ll wash the dishes’, before the taller boy stood up, grabbed the dirty dishes off the coffee table, and rushed to the kitchen without sparing a second glance towards the still startled boy on the couch. 

Watching the other teen’s retreating back, Gokudera wondered what was going through the young athlete’s mind.  The smaller teen worried is lower lip, trying to figure out everything that had taken place.  Yamamoto had been so abrupt with leaving without even trying to talk things out, which wasn’t like him at all. Gokudera couldn’t help but wonder if it had just been an accident; that Yamamoto hadn’t meant to touch him like that.  Unable to stop his heart clenching painfully at the thought, Gokudera peered into the kitchen from his spot on the couch to watch the other boy.  No matter how he looked at it, Gokudera knew that he didn’t want the other boy’s actions to be an accident.

What met the silver-haired bomber’s eyes was a very dejected looking Yamamoto; sleeves rolled up to his elbows while his hands were covered in soapy water as he washed the dirty dishes.  The black-haired teen’s head hung low, along with his shoulders, and his actions were slow like his thoughts were in another place entirely.  Gokudera had to look away from the depressing site, his heart stinging with remorse.  Obviously, Yamamoto had felt hurt by what had happened between them, but Gokudera still didn’t know if it was because Yamamoto had wanted to touch him in the first place or if he was sorry for doing something so awkward to begin with.

While Gokudera was busy with his thoughts and self doubts, Yamamoto finished washing and drying the dishes before putting them back in their proper places.  Seeing as Gokudera was still sitting on the couch, stiff and unmoving, Yamamoto felt that he had overstayed his welcome, made his way past his sitting crush, and headed towards the door, feeling completely unwanted by the other teen.  Why hadn’t he just left like he normally would after seeing the sun starting to set?  He just had to go and screw things up with his friend just when he was beginning to see progress!  Gokudera had seemed to be enjoying his company beforehand, but that was only a sweet memory now, a memory that Yamamoto was certain he would probably never experience again if the smaller teen’s silence was anything to go by.

With a heavy heart, Yamamoto slipped on his shoes, his hand resting on the doorknob with slight hesitation.  It felt wrong to just leave without saying anything to the smaller teen.  Unable to bring up the situation that had caused all of their awkwardness to begin with, Yamamoto instead said, “I, uh, hope you get your washing machine fixed soon so you don’t have to deal with the—yeah.”  The taller athlete quit before he even finished his sentence, knowing where it would have possibly led.  Shuffling his feet awkwardly, Yamamoto, for the first time in his life, felt completely lost for words.  After he had stayed silent for too long and noticed that his friend still refused to respond to him, Yamamoto just decided to leave with a hurt, “Yeah, um, I’ll….I’ll just go then.” With that, Yamamoto opened the door and headed outside, feeling completely ashamed of his actions and wanting nothing more than to go bury himself in a hole.

The silver-haired Italian was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice the other teen’s presence until he was speaking to him from the door.  Eyes widening in shock at the other teen’s mention of leaving and the sound of the door opening, Gokudera shot up from the couch without thinking and ran towards the door, grabbing onto Yamamoto’s retreating arm still resting on the outside doorknob.   “Yamamoto, wait!”  He exclaimed in panic, his hand clutching the other boy’s arm, effectively stopping the other from leaving.

Yamamoto froze in shock at the feeling of the other grasping his arm; eyes widening in wonder as he heard the panic in the other’s voice.  Turning around in surprise, Yamamoto was met with a just as shocked Gokudera.  His green eyes were shining with uncertainty, and he looked completely lost on how he had gotten there. 

“G-Gokudera?” Yamamoto whispered hesitantly, confused by the other teen’s sudden appearance. 

The silver-haired storm guardian stared up uncertainly into Yamamoto’s questioning hazel eyes as he had an internal debate with his pride to decide on his next course of action.  He couldn’t just let the day end like this, not when things were good again between him and the baseball-idiot.

Gokudera had promised himself that he wouldn’t let the other boy walk away from him again.

“I…” Gokudera started hesitantly, looking away for a second to muster up some courage for what he was about to say (his pride be damned!).  Turning to look back up at the taller boy waiting for him with fiery determination, Gokudera stared into the other boy’s eyes and said what he thought needed to be said.  “…thank you.”

Yamamoto’s eyes widened further in complete surprise.  He definitely wasn’t expecting that.  “T-Thank me?”  He stuttered unsurely, wondering if he had heard correctly.

Gokudera blushed extensively at that.  He hadn’t meant to word it exactly that way.  Silently scolding his mouth for being completely useless when he needed it the most, he continued.  “I-I meant thank you for everything you’ve done for me, especially for today.  I mean—” Gokudera stopped mid-way, making sure his next words were exactly right, so that he wouldn’t cause another misunderstanding like before.  Even though he **_was_** thankful for the touch from earlier, but that was a different matter entirely at the moment.  “—even though the day was a little rough, I…I still enjoyed it.  I guess, what I’m trying to say is…” Gokudera muttered softly, his green eyes boring into Yamamoto’s intensely.  “…I wouldn’t mind doing something with you again…with just the two of us.”

After saying what he hoped was reassuring to the other teen, and that he hadn’t made a complete fool of himself, Gokudera bit his lip nervously, waiting expectantly for Yamamoto’s reply. 

Yamamoto, at the meantime, was frozen speechless.  Did Gokudera just say what he thought he said?  Almost unable to believe what he had heard, Yamamoto hesitantly asked, “You…you really wouldn’t mind?  Just the two of us?”

Gokudera couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the question, even though it was probably an inappropriate time to do so. He should have known better than to expect Yamamoto to get it the first time.  “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it, idiot,” The silver-haired teen quipped gently, letting a small affectionate smile show to reassure the other teen he meant what he had said as he let go of the other boy’s arm.  Gokudera was certain he wouldn’t be running away anytime soon.

As he thought, Yamamoto didn’t move from his spot in the open doorway outside of the apartment.  In fact, the taller teen was completely rooted to the spot, slowly taking in Gokudera’s smile and gentle shining eyes.   He was touched at the other boy’s words, so much so, that he couldn’t stop his eyes from becoming impassioned as he stared into Gokudera’s brilliant jade-green orbs.  He unconsciously leaned closer, resting his left hand on the open doorframe and bending downward so that his face was mere inches away from the silver-haired boy standing in front of him.  “Gokudera I…” the nervous athlete started delicately, unable to adequately word how much he felt for the other boy in front of him in that moment, so, instead, he went for a more direct approach that would still get his message across.

He just hoped it wouldn’t scare the other boy away. 

“Gokudera…can I kiss you?”

The other teen didn’t seem fazed at the question at all, much to Yamamoto’s surprise.  In fact, now that he thought about it, Gokudera didn’t even flinch away when he had drawn closer to him seconds ago, either.  Yamamoto’s brown eyes shimmered with worry, wondering if Gokudera would take a more physical approach by slamming the door (literally) in his face and tell him to get lost at the request.  Instead, the other peered directly into his eyes without fear, jade orbs fervent and passionate. 

“You idiot,” the Italian whispered breathlessly, Yamamoto feeling the other’s warm breath just inches from his face. Gokudera couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so happy.  Just knowing that the other boy did actually feel the same way he did about him sent shivers down his spine. “Why do you think I haven’t moved away yet?”

Yamamoto blinked a couple of times in shock before he gave a gentle laugh, his voice filled with relief as he finally processed the words Gokudera was trying to get across.  The taller teen felt amazing warmth spread from his head to his toes as he stared intently into Gokudera’s beautiful eyes.  “Gokudera…I…” Yamamoto began, his voice shaking with so much emotion he wasn’t sure if he could finish want he wanted to say.

Thankfully, Gokudera already understood.  “You idiot, just kiss me already,” he ordered almost impatiently.  He had wanted this for who knows how long and he wasn’t taking lightly to Yamamoto pussyfooting around.

The Vongola rain guardian laughed breathlessly in response, doing just as he was asked; he had wanted this for a long time as well.  In the next second, Yamamoto’s lips brushed up against Gokudera’s softly, the action filled with a little hesitance because he had never kissed another person before.  Thankfully, Gokudera had no experience in this field either, because he just as hesitantly pushed back, their lips melding together sweetly in their imperfection.

All too soon, Yamamoto withdrew from their kiss, their noses brushing as his hazel-brown eyes silently asked if he could progress a little further, not wanting to push the other away because he was going too fast for him.  Gokudera glared sternly in return, his vibrant green eyes **_demanding_** the other boy to start kissing him again or else there would be hell to pay.  Chuckling slightly at the craving teen before him, Yamamoto brought his free hand up to cup Gokudera’s cheek, his other hand still holding onto the door frame, as he brought the other’s face closer to his, meshing their lips together again, both of their eyes closing in bliss.

Gokudera couldn’t stop the shudder that rolled down his spine at the heated kiss and at Yamamoto’s hand softly caressing his cheek.  His hands fisting into the other’s shirt to draw himself closer to him, Gokudera threw away his hesitance and took the next step by nibbling slightly on the taller boy’s lower lip, his teeth softly kneading the flesh and drawing a gasp from the taller boy in response.  The silver-haired teen felt pride swelling in his chest at making his companion gasp in such a way, so he tried sucking on Yamamoto’s lower lip next, seeing if the other boy liked that as well.  A confirmative moan was all the silver-haired boy received as they continued in their ministrations, the kiss becoming heated enough to draw out both of the boys’ tongues at the same time, the two wet appendages accidently bumping against each other outside of their mouths, and causing both teens to gasp and break their kiss in surprise.  Neither of them had expected the other to do that.

Their eyes met hesitantly, silently asking for further permission to continue.  Yamamoto just smiled reassuringly, his eyes shimmering with unspoken happiness, while Gokudera nodded in assent, a blush tainting his cheeks and his eyes filled with fiery determination.  Taking that as his cue, Yamamoto brought their lips together again for the third time, one hand still cupping the other’s cheek while the other wrapped around Gokudera’s skinny waist this time, drawing the smaller boy flush against his chest. With pleasant warmth emanating all around him, Gokudera brought his arms up to wrap around the tall baseball player’s neck, drawing himself even closer, which he didn’t think could even be possible, to the raven-haired teen and opening his mouth for the other to explore.

Yamamoto didn’t even hesitate at the invitation, his tongue diving into Gokudera’s warmth, running the warm muscle over every imaginable surface, exploring the silver-haired teen’s mouth to the fullest.  This action caused a low moan to emanate from the smaller teen’s throat, the sound seamlessly vibrating through Yamamoto’s body as his tongue wrapped around Gokudera’s, the smaller boy tasting of the sushi they had just finished eating, along with a hint of smoke, courtesy of Gokudera’s cigarettes, even though the smaller boy hadn’t lit up once that day.  Placing these thoughts to the back of his mind and just enjoying the thrilling taste, Yamamoto gave a low moan of his own as his and Gokudera’s tongues began wrestling together feverishly for dominance, the smaller teen’s hands finding their way to Yamamoto’s short spiky black hair, fisting it in both of his hands and drawing Yamamoto even closer into the kiss.

Surprised by the sudden tug on his hair, Yamamoto lost whatever hold he had on the other boy’s tongue, Gokudera’s winning out in the end in the battle for dominance and pushing it back into its owner’s mouth; Gokudera’s tongue following shortly behind.  Now it was the smaller teen’s turn to explore Yamamoto’s mouth, the Italian bomber tasting sushi and mint in his wake; a rather appealing flavor in his opinion.  Gokudera’s searching became more frantic after that, growling possessively into the taller teen’s mouth, who gave a wanton moan in response.  Yamamoto began rubbing gentle circles along the base of Gokudera’s spine while his other hand slipped from their place on the smaller teen’s creamy cheek to behind his head.  Tanned fingers roughly wrapped around silver strands then, making Gokudera’s hair tie fall to the floor and the silvery strands to fall loose in the process.  This caused the smaller boy to tilt his head slightly to the left, deepening their kiss even further.  The two boys reveled in this new position and the feeling of completion it brought as they held each other as close as the possibly could, not wanting the other to let go anytime soon.

The two guardians continued to kiss each other passionately in this new position, putting every feeling they had for the other teen into the kiss that they couldn’t effectively put into words, until they had to break for much needed air.  The two boys parted slowly, their tongues the last to separate as their eyes slowly opened.  They were both panting heavily and their cheeks were flushed like they had just run a marathon; their lips swollen red and slightly bruised.  Yamamoto still held the smaller teen firmly against him, while Gokudera’s hands still fisted through the taller boy’s hair, both staring intently into each other’s eyes.

“That…” Gokudera started, breathlessly.

“…was amazing…” Yamamoto finished, bringing himself forward to peck the silver-haired teen one more time on the lips.

The feisty Italian blushed at the cute and intimate action, allowing the other to rest his forehead against his when he was done, their noses brushing again as their eyes met.  The other boy so close then that Gokudera could see the gold flecks reflected in his light-brown eyes.

“Gokudera…I…I really like you,” Yamamoto whispered softly as he held the other boy close in his still open doorway, the small Italian relinquishing his hold on his spiky hair and returning his arms to their place around Yamamoto’s shoulders.

The smaller teen felt his heart beat quicken again like it had during their kiss, making the bomber wonder if Yamamoto could feel it as well.  Still blushing, the young Italian diverted his gaze to the side shyly, away from the Japanese boy.  “Yeah…I…”  He swallowed his pride roughly. “I…really like you, too.”

Yamamoto smiled warmly at that, ecstatic that he had gotten the confession he had always wanted from the silver-haired teen.  “Hey, Gokudera?”  The raven-haired teen questioned expectantly as he drew his forehead away from the other teen to look at him fully.  “Do you think that maybe you could come over to my place tomorrow after school?  My dad is trying out a new sushi recipe and I bet he would love if a tough critic like you approved of it.”

Gokudera silently whined as the warmth from Yamamoto’s forehead was taken away.  He internally winced at the mention of being a tough critic, but he couldn’t really lie to himself about that; he was a picky eater after all.  Was it wrong to have an appreciation for finer foods?  Ignoring his thoughts, he focused his attention back on the tall, dark-haired teen holding him, who was still waiting for his answer.  “Sure,” he mumbled bashfully, looking away from Yamamoto again. “—but only for the sushi!” He quickly added, trying to retain whatever pride he had lost during this whole scenario.

Yamamoto wasn’t offended in the slightest at Gokudera’s words, already knowing what they exactly meant.  The taller teen laughed jubilantly at Gokudera’s answer.  He was so ecstatic that Gokudera had accepted that he actually picked the smaller boy up and twirled him around once before putting him back down on his feet again, the other boy looking completely flabbergasted after said action was done. 

“That’s great, Gokudera!  It’s a date then!” Yamamoto exclaimed with giddy excitement, his smile spreading widely from ear to ear even as the other boy continued to stare up at him in shock.  Sensing his time was getting short, Yamamoto peered over his shoulder to see the sunset barely hanging over the horizon; a fading purple and red streak in the sky.  He didn’t want to leave after everything that just happened, but he knew he really had to be heading back then.  His father would be getting worried about him if he didn’t arrive home soon.  Hardly able to contain his excitement over the prospects of tomorrow, Yamamoto returned his gaze to startled green and finally said his goodbyes, “I’ll see you tomorrow then, okay?”

With a quick peck to a still shocked Gokudera’s cute little nose, Yamamoto reluctantly released his hold on the other boy and made his way towards the staircase, waving frantically over his shoulder in goodbye towards the still shell-shocked, silver-haired Italian, smiling joyfully all the while.  Gokudera could only stare after the retreating boy with a half-dazed expression on his face, still hardly believing that Yamamoto had just twirled him around like some girl in a cheesy romance movie. 

As Yamamoto made his way down the stairs and onto the street, thankfully still not running into the creepy landlord, the taller boy had to suppress the sudden urge to twirl around the nearest lamppost and start singing his happiness to the world, knowing that he would completely embarrass himself (his singing voice wasn’t the greatest) and his silver-haired boyfriend nearby.  The tall, dark-haired athlete smiled exuberantly as that word replayed over and over in his head.  **_Boyfriend_**...wow…he thought he’d never see the day.

Meanwhile, while Yamamoto was practically skipping his way home in all his overly-happy glory, Gokudera was still staring into space in shock at everything that had happened to him today, especially over the stuff that had just happened moments prior.  Mulling everything over in his head, Gokudera didn’t stop the small genuine smile that spread across his face.  Softly closing the door behind him, the small silver-haired bomber decided to head for bed, exhausted from the day’s events and feeling truly content for the first time in his life.

As he closed his bedroom door, Gokudera couldn’t help but look forward to the interesting days he knew were ahead of him.


End file.
